ROGER  MANNERS, 
5th  Earl  of  Rutland. 


Signature   of  Roger,    Fifth   "Earl  -of  Rutland. 


RUTLAND 

A  CHRONOLOGICALLY  ARRANGED  OUTLINE  OF  THE 
LIFE    OF 

ROGER  MANNERS 
FIFTH  EARL  OF  RUTLAND 

AUTHOR   OF   THE   WORKS    ISSUED   IN   FOLIO   IN    1623    UNDER 
THE    NOM    DE   PLUME 

"SHAKE-SPEARE" 

PROFUSELY  ILLUSTRATED 
ALSO  A 

DRAMA 

SHOWING  THE  MODUS  OPERANDI  OF  THE 
ENGAGEMENT  OF 

WILLIAM  SHAXPER 

OF  STRATFORD-ON-AVON 
(SECOND  EDITION) 

AS   DUMMY  AND   STRAWMAN  FOR  THE  EARL-AUTHOR 
AMENDED    AND    GREATLY    AUGMENTED 

AND 

THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  FOLIO 

SHOWING  HOW  THE  UREA7oF(7LIO,dK  5033,",  »  l>t  ', 
CAME  ' 


BY 

LEWIS  F.  BOSTELMANN 


PUBLISHED    BY   THE 

RUTLAND  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK 

191 1 


CONTENTS 


POUR    Y    PARVENIR 3 

OUTLINES  OF  THE  LIFE   OF  ROGER, 

6th  Earl  of  Rutland 9 


FURTHER    UNDENIABLE    FACTS 28 

NOTEWORTHY    OPINIONS   RE    SHAXPER 

of     Stratford-on-Avon 29 

STRATFORD-ON-AVON  IN  SHAXPER'S 

time 81 

ANN  HATHAWAY  COTTAGE  FRAUD 35 

A  PROPHECY  FROM  WINTER'S  TALE 36 

DESCRIPTION  OF  BELVOIR, 

Rutland's    Castle 37 

A  LETTER  WRITTEN  BY  SHAKE-SPEARE 40 

BOTTESFORD— RUTLAND'S  TOMB 41 

LINES   ON   RUTLAND'S   DEATH 

prefacing  Folio  of  1623 43 

RANDOM    NOTES 44 

BEN  JONSON'S  LINES  TO  THE 

Countess  of   Rutland 55 

JONSON'S   EPIGRAM   ON  RUTLAND 58 

JONSON'S  LINES  TO  WILLIAM  HERBERT, 

Earl     of    Pembroke 66 

WILLIAM  DRUMMOND'S  OPINION 

of  Ben  Jonson 59 

EXTRACTS  FROM  JONSON'S  CONVERSATIONS 

with  Drummond  in  1619 68 

RUTLAND  ON   EDUCATION «0 

"RUTLAND"  A  DRAMA, 

written  solely  to  describe  the  theory  of  Rutland's  em- 
ploying William  Shaxper  of  Stratford  as  Dummy  or 
Strawman  '.. . . .  81 

THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  FOLIO  OF  1623, 

which  clearly  presents  the  theory  regarding  the  first 
publication  of  the  works  of  "SHAKE-SPEARE" 157 

SOME  JINGLING  TRUTHS ..184 


331461 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

ROGER  MANNERS,  5TH  EARL  OF  RUTLAND  ..Frontispiece 

Page 

ELIZABETH,  COUNTESS  OF  RUTLAND, 

Daughter  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  at  Belvoir   10 

ROGER,  5TH  EARL  OF  RUTLAND, 

at     Belvoir      15 

FRANCIS  MANNERS, 

Brother  and  Successor  of  Roger 25 

BELVOIR  CASTLE, 

Leicestershire    / 

SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY, 

Father  of  the  Countess  of  Rutland  40 

WILLIAM  HERBERT, 

Earl  of  Pembroke 40 

PHILIP  HERBERT, 

Earl  of  Montgomery 40 

WILTON  HOUSE, 

The  Seat  of  the  Pembrokes    40 

HENRY  WRIOTHESLY, 

Earl  of  Southampton  55 

ROBERT  DEVEREUX, 

Earl  of  Essex 55 

ESSEX  HOUSE, 

February  8,  1601    55 

FRANCIS    BACON     70 

RESOLUTE  JOHN  FLORIO 70 

BEN  JONSON    70 

RICHARD  BURBAGE  70 

SHAXPER  OF  STRATFORD, 

as    Falstaff    70 

THE  TOWER  OF  LONDON  85 

KING   JAMES   1 85 

QUEEN  ELIZABETH   85 

THE  BEAUCHAMP  TOWER  100 

CELL   IN   THE   BEAUCHAMP   TOWER    100 

INSCRIPTION  CHISELED  IN  WALL  OF  CELL 100 

ROGER,  5TH  EARL  OF  RUTLAND, 

by  Van  Somer   115 

BELVOIR  CASTLE, 

in  Rutland's  Time 115 

GRAY'S  INN  HALL 130 

RUTLAND  MURDERED  BY  CLIFFORD, 

(K.  Henry  VI.,  pt  3)  145 

ST.  PETER  /  D  VINCULA, 

Where  Essex  lies  buried 150 

THE  MAKESHIFT  FIGURE  OF  "SHAKE-SPEARE," 

by  Martin  Droeshout 170 

THE  STRATFORD  BUST  OF  "FALSTAFF"  176 


TO  THEREADE&; 

Since  the  issue  of  the  first  edition  of  "Rutland" 
two  years  ago,  so  many  additional  facts  have  been 
discovered  unerringly  pointing  to  the  identity  of 
Roger  Manners,  5th  Earl  of  Rutland,  with  the 
immortal  "Shakepeare,"  that  this  second  amended 
and  augmented  edition  is  not  only  justified  but 
its  publication  at  the  present  time  is  considered 
by  the  author  as  the  fulfilment  of  a  duty  not  only 
to  the  large  and  ever-growing  number  of  Strat- 
fordian  controversialists,  but  also  to  the  larger 
number  of  students  of  history  and  literature  not 
yet  so  credulous  as  to  accept  the  wilfull  mis- 
statements,  or  fall  into  the  unpardonable  errors, 
of  the  orthodox  Stratfordian  biographers  of 
William  Shakespeare  of  Stratford  on  Avon. 

The  Stratford  swindle  must  be  stopped;  the 
fraudulent  likeness  of  "Fallstaff-Shaksper"  must 
be  turned  to  the  wall ;  the  accumulation  of  hum- 
buggery  in  the  Stratford  museums  must  be 
swept  away  and  common  sense  must,  by  legisla- 
tion, if  necessary,  compel  ordinary  decency  by 
the  suppression  of  the  Stratfordian  propagation 
of  that  colossal  fraud.  There  is  a  surfeit  of 
evidence  and  documentary  proof  that  William 
Shaksper  of  Stratford  on  Avon  did  NOT  write 
the  Shake-spearian  plays  and  poems,  while  there 
is  the  strongest  evidence,  supported  by  common 
sense  and  logic,  that  Roger  Manners,  5th  Earl  of 
Rutland,  did  write  these  plays  and  poems  using 
the  nom  de  plume  "Shake-Speare".  Docu- 


mentary  evidence  supporting  this  contention  is 
in  existence  and  will  be  produced  when  de- 
manded by  pi'ppef  authority. 

During:  the  past-  quarter  century  all  that  was 
ever  published -a-nd .available  regarding  the  Shake- 
Speare  authorship  controversy  has  been  care- 
fully read  by  the  author  with  the  result  that  the 
logical  conclusion  reached  is  that  Roger  Manners, 
5th  Earl  of  Rutland,  wrote  the  plays,  sonnets 
and  poems  known  to  the  world  as  the  works  of 
Shakespeare ;  that  William  Shaksper  or  Shaxper 
of  Stratford-on-Avon  acted  as  dummy  or  straw- 
man  for  that  unique  genius  of  the  ancient  house 
of  Manners. 

The  author  has  freely  used  whatever  data  was 
serviceable  in  the  published  books  of  all  writers 
upon  this  subject  and  here  makes  due  acknowl- 
edgment to  any  and  all  of  these,  who,  on  read- 
ing this  book,  discover  traces  of  their  own  work. 

The  drama  "Rutland"  was  written  merely  to 
show  the  modus  operandi  of  the  creation  of  the 
Shake-Speare  mystery.  Anachronisms  in  this 
drama  were  unavoidable  and  will  be  understood 
by  readers  familiar  with  the  subject.  Stratford- 
on-Avon  has  long  since  ceased  to  be  the  Mecca 
of  lovers  of  literature  acquainted  with  the  Shake- 
Speareian  era  and  that  this  book  may  be  instru- 
mental in  forever  setting  at  rest  all  controversy 
over  this  vexed  question  is  the  hope  and  wish  of 

THE  AUTHOR. 
New  York,  July,  1911. 


3 
*&  POUR     Y      PARVENIR.         ^» 

Pallas  Athene,  halt!     Shake  not  thy  Speare! 
My  secret  fails,   when   keen  analysis 
Balks    Ariels    edict — (whispered    in    my    ear) 
"My  name  be  buried  where  my  body  is" 

(Sonnet  72.) 

Thy  wisdom,   Pallas,  shielded  me  from  fame, 
Three  centuries  have  frayed  my  "noted  weed" 
"That  every   word   doth  almost   tell  my   name" 
"Showing  their  birth  and  where  they  did  proceed." 

(Sonnet  76.) 
»     »     *     *    ' 

"Here  the  Anthem  doth  commence: 
Love  and  constancy  is  dead; 
Phoenix  and  the  turtle  fled 
In  a  mutual  flame  from  hence." 


Leaving  no  posterity: — 
'Twas  not  their  infirmity, 
It  was  married  chastity. 

(Phoenix  and  Turtle.) 


A  CHRONOLOGICAL  OUTLINE 

of  the  life  of 
ROGER   MANNERS,   sTH    EARL   OF   RUTLAND 

(1576 1612) 

His  INTIMATE   CONNECTION   WITH   THE  WORKS  or 
WILLIAM  "SHAKE-SPEARE" 

Also 
THE  PUBLICATION  OF  THE  FOLIO  OF  1623 

and 

CERTAIN   EVENTS   SUBSEQUENT  TO  THE  DEATH  OF 
RUTLAND  UNERRINGLY  POINTING  TO  THE 

MYSTERY  OF  HIS  LIFE. 

Roger  was  born   October  6th,   1576.     When  he 

reached  the  age  of  six  years,  he  was  placed  under  the 

instruction  and  guidance  of  able  tutors;  he  was 

1576    amply   prepared   to   take   his   place    in   Queen's 

College,  Cambridge,  in  March,   1588;  his  father 

having  died   February  2ist  of   this  year,   Roger   sue- 


ceeded  as  5th  Earl  of  Rutland  on  that  date. 

On  his  journey  to  Cambridge,   Rutland   stopped  at 
London  to  be  presented  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  com- 
plimented him  upon  his  precocity  and  intelligence 

1588  and  praised   the  memory  of  his   father,   saying 
that  she  knew  him  as  a  good  and  honest  man. 

Rutland,  being  a  minor,  became  a  ward  of  the  State 
under  the  immediate  control  of  Lord  Treasurer  Bur- 
leigh  who  deputed  his  nephew,  Francis  Bacon,  to  act 
as  guide,  philosopher  and  friend  to  the  young  Earl. 

At  Cambridge,  Rutland  became  intimate  with  Henry 

Wriothesly,  Earl  of  Southampton,  who  was  completing 

his    studies    at    St.    John's    College,    where    he 

1589  received  his  degree  M.A.  in  June  the  following 
year.       Rutland     had     been     transferred     from 

Queen's  to  Corpus  Christi  College  to  be  under  the 
direct  supervision  of  John  Jegon,  afterwards  Bishop 
of  Norwich.  Southampton  was  born  on  the  same 
day  of  the  month  Rutland  was  born,  October  6;  but 
was  three  years  Rutland's  senior,  having  been  born  in 

I573- 

The  unparalleled  intimacy  that  grew  out  of  their 
daily  association  led  to  a  proposal  that  Southampton 
marry  Rutland's  sister,  Lady  Bridget  Manners.  Rutland 
was  heart  and  soul  for  the  match  and  when,  in  June, 
1589,  Southampton  left  Cambridge,  the  more  than 
friendship  now  engendered  was  nursed  and  yet  more 
strengthened  by  an  almost  uninterrupted  correspondence 

and  frequent  visits  between  London  and  Cam- 
1593  bridge.  This  intimacy  continued  until  1593,  when 

Rutland  sent  to  his  friend  the  "first  heir  of  his 
invention"  Venus  and  Adonis,  dedicating  the  poem  to 
Southampton  in  words  that  bear  the  stamp  of  their 
intimacy  as  above  related.  This  poem  was  signed 
"WILLIAM  SHAKE-SPEASE"  a  nom  de  plume  that  Rut- 
land had  assumed  as  was  later  recognized  by  the  College 
paper  entitled  the  "Polimenteia"  published  by  Legate. 
The  nom  de  plume  was  evolved  out  of  Pallas  Athene — 
which  name  is  denned  in  the  L.  &  S.  Latin  Dictionary  as 


a  "Shaker  or  Brandisher  of  Spears." 

Southampton  was  so  well  pleased  with  his  young 
friend's  attempt  at  the  Muses  that  he  instructed  their 
mutual  friend,  Francis  Bacon,  to  have  Venus  and 
Adonis  published  forthwith.  Bacon  engaged  one 
Richard  Field,  a  Warwickshire  man  who  had  bought 
Vetrollier's  Printing  Establishment  in  the  Blackfriars 
district  in  London.  It  was  here  that  Bacon  first  met 
William  Shaksper,  who  had  also  come  from  War- 
wickshire some  time  before. 

The  similarity  of  the  names  and  Rutland's  desire  to 
maintain  his  secret  authorship  led  to  Bacon's  pro- 
posing the  engagement  of  this  Shaksper  to  act  as  living 
pseudonym  for  Rutland — Shaksper  was  instructed  to 
neither  admit  nor  deny  his  connection  with  anything 
that  Rutland  might  thereafter  wish  to  publish. 

The   following  year,  Rutland   repeated  his  first  at- 
tempt to  please  his  friend,  Southampton,  and  dedicated 
to  him  his  "Rape  of  Lucre  ce"  in  a  letter,  warmer 

1594  if   anything   than    that    which   accompanied   his 
"Venus  and  Adonis."    A  careful  reading  of  those 

two  letters  cannot  fail  to  discover  the  source  whence 
they  sprang  and  the  conditions  and  circumstances  under 
which  they  were  penned. 

The  "  P  olimenteia"  a  Cambridge  College  Publication, 

was   printed  in   159^  and   on   the   margin   of   one   of 

the     pages      "Sweet"     "Shake-Speare"  —  also 

1595  "Wanton     Adonis"  —  and     "Lucrece"     appear. 
While  the  Norn  de  Plume  "Shake-Speare"  was 

known  at  Cambridge,  Rutland's  connection  with  it  re- 
mained a  secret. 

In  December  of  this  year  Rutland  received  his  M.A. 
degree. 

Early  in  January  of  the  following  year,  Rutland 
goes  abroad  to  travel  in  France,  Switzerland,  Italy, 
Germany,  etc. 

1596  The  celebrated  Earl  of  Essex  was  Rutland's 
warm  friend;  he  gave  Rutland  a  long  letter  of 

advice    and    instructions    for    his    guidance    upon    his 


travels.  (A  draft  of  this  letter  has  since  been  found 
in  the  Tenison  Papers,  Lambeth  Palace,  and  is  in  the 
handwriting  of  Francis  Bacon.) 

This  letter  is  important  in  establishing  Rutland's 
intimate  connection  with  all  the  acknowledged  plays, 
dramas  and  poems  of  "Shake-Speare"  as  almost  all  the 
injunctions  and  advice  with  the  philosophy  governing 
them,  were  utilized  word  for  word  or  by  paraphrase 
here  and  there,  throughout  these  monumental  works. 

Rutland  also  took  with  him  on  his  travels  a  large 
bundle  of  old  manuscripts  left  by  his  father,  the  4th 
Earl  of  Rutland.  Among  these  Mss.  of  about  eighteen 
old  plays,  was  the  "Taming  of  A  Shrew"  which  had  been 
produced  by  the  Earl  of  Pembroke's  servants  in  the 
early  nineties  and  was  piratically  printed  for  Peter 
Short  in  1594.  The  scene  of  action  in  this  old  play 
was  laid  in  Athens;  but  Rutland  in  re-writing  it  at 
Padua  changed  the  location  to  that  city,  as  we  now 
have  it,  and  he  changed  the  title  to  "Taming  of  The 
Shrew." 

In  the  Induction  to  this  comedy,  Rutland  satirizes 
his  dummy,  Shakesper — who  had  applied  for  a  Coat 
of  Arms — dreaming  that  he  was  now  a  "great  lord" — at 
least  gentleman. 

Rutland  also  inserted  in  this  Induction  a  "thumb 
print"  which  furnishes  irrefragable  proof  of  his  author- 
ship of  this  comedy.  He  mentions  Correggio's  great 
painting  of  Jupiter  and  lo,  which  was  at  that  time 
(1596),  unknown  in  England.  This  painting  Rutland 
had  seen  when  visiting  Leoni's  palace  at  Milan,  when 
on  his  journey  to  Padua.  Rutland  was  so  much  im- 
pressed with  this  painting  that  he  caused  a  sketch  of 
it  to  be  made,  from  which  he  afterwards  had  a  fresco 
painted  on  the  ceiling  of  the  Elizabeth  Salon  in  his 
ancestral  Castle  of  Belvoir  in  Leicestershire,  where  lo 
may  be  admired  to  this  day.  On  entering  the  Uni- 
versity of  Padua,  Rutland  made  the  acquaintance  of 
two  Scandinavian  gentlemen  who  were  studying  there, 
named  respectively  Rosencrans  and  Guilderstern.  We 


can  judge  as  to  the  character  of  these  gentlemen  from 
the  use  Rutland  made  of  them  in  his  Hamlet  some 
years  afterwards. 

At  Mantua  Rutland  visited  Vincenzo  Gonzago  who 
had  been  the  patron  of  Tasso  then  recently  dead.  From 
this  nobleman  Rutland  got  the  tale  "in  choice  Italian" 
which  he  afterwards  called  the  "Mouse  Trap"  in  the 
interlude  in  "Hamlet." 

At  the  University,  Rutland  studied  under  Galileo 
Galelei,  and  also  the  then  celebrated  Jurist  Ottonello 
Delcalzio  whom  he  characterized  in  the  "Merchant  of 
Venice"  as  Portia's  relative  Bellario  the  great  Padua 
Jurist.  Rutland,  about  this  time,  fell  seriously  ill 
of  a  fever;  but  soon  recovered,  and  traveled  all  over 
Italy  while  convalescing.  At  Mantua,  he  admired  the 
works  of  Julio  Romano,  the  great  painter-sculptor 
whom  he  in  after  years  mentions  in  his  "Winter's 
Tale." 

At  Verona  Rutland  re-wrote  the  old  Romeo  and 
Juliet  he  found  among  his  father's  Mss.,  and  fitted 
this  drama  to  cover  incidents  in  his  friend  Southamp- 
ton's love  affairs.  He  changed  Romeo's  family  name 
"Montecchi"  to  "Montague,"  which  was  Southampton's 
Mother's  name.  In  fact,  Rutland  scattered  "thumb 
prints"  throughout  all  his  works. 

At  Verona  Rutland  outlined  the  "Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona,"  accurately  depicting  Southampton's  fickleness 
in  his  love  affairs  with  Lady  Vernon  by  means  of  the 
characters  Proteus  and  Julia.  Rutland  also  alludes  to 
his  own  willingness  to  resign  his  lady  to  Southampton — 
a  few  years  later.  In  this  comedy  Rutland  also  leaves 
an  unmistakable  "thumb  print"  in  telling  the  Bandits 
in  Act  IV.,  Scene  I.,  that  he  had  sojourned  in  Italy 
«ome  "Sixteen  Months"  which  was  the  exact  time  Rut- 
land remained  in  that  Sunny  Clime,  and  during  which 
time  he  gathered  data  and  local  color  for  all  his  other 
Italian  plays. 

He  returned  to  England  the  following  year  in  time 


8 

to  join  Essex  on  his  expedition  to  the  Azores.    A  tem- 
pest scattered  the  fleet  and  Rutland's  ship  was 
1597    driven  back  to  shore.    Before  re-embarking  Rut- 
land was  ordered  to  join  the  Duke  of  Northumb- 
erland at  his  headquarters  in  Holland.     During  these 
activities   Rutland  became   familiar  with  nautical  and 
army  life,  and  his  Pistols,  Bardolphs  and  Parolles  were 
undoubtedly  sketched  from  nature. 

Rutland  returning  from  the  Low  Countries,  entered 

Gray's    Inn    the    next   year,    where   he    augmented  his 

Knowledge   of  the   Law,   imbibed   at   Cambridge 

1598    and  Padua.     At  Gray's  Inn  Rutland  was  known 

as  the  "clever  student  of  Padua."     The  justice 

of  this  appellation  is  sufficiently  evidenced  throughout 

Shake-Speare's  works — especially  as  to  law. 

Up  to  this  time  Rutland  had  re-written  or  only 
amended  from  the  old  Mss.  "King  Richard  II.;"  "King 
Richard  III.;"  "Romeo  and  Juliet;"  "Loves  Labor 
Lost;"  "Taming  of  The  Shrew"  and  "Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona." 

The  Earl  of  Essex  had  married  the  widow  of   Sir 

Philip  Sidney  in  1590,  and  both  he  and  the  Queen  as 

well  as  all  the  members  of  the  respective  families  were 

conspiring  to  marry  Rutland  to  Lady  Elizabeth  Sidney, 

only  child  and  daughter  of  the  celebrated  Sir  Philip, 

and  now  the  step-daughter  of  Essex.     Rutland, 

1599    however,    did   not   wish    to    marry   anybody,   he 

was   not  thinking  of   marriage   at   all;   but  the 

forces   against   him   proved   too   strong,   and   Rutland 

married  the  young  lady  early  in  March.     He  gives  an 

exact  review  of  this  momentous  episode  in  his  life  in 

his  comedy  of  "Much  Ado  About  Nothing,"  wherein 

he  again  leaves  an  unerring  finger  mark  by  mentioning 

the  very  date  of  his  engagement  to  marry  in  Act  I., 

Scene  I.,  where  Don  Pedro  says,  "The  sixth  of  July 

your  loving  friend  Benedict"    It  will  be  seen  that  this 

remark  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  play  and 

was  put  in  to  serve  as   a  "thumb  mark"   for  future 

identification. 


Immediately  after  the  wedding  Rutland  goes  to  the 
wars,  joining  Essex  on  his  ill-fated  expedition  to  Ire- 
land as  Colonel  of  a  Foot  Regiment.  This  incident  he 
describes  in  his  comedy  "All's  Well  that  Ends  Well," 
in  which  "Bertrand"  leaves  "Helena"  in  the  same 
manner. 

In  his  "Much  Ado  About  Nothing"  Rutland  also  de- 
scribes Southampton's  treatment  of  Lady  Vernon,  which 
episode  in  that  fickle  lord's  life  is  further  enlarged  upon 
by  Rutland  in  his  "Measure  for  Measure" 

History  tells  of  Rutland's  recall  from  Ireland  and 
Southampton's  sufferings  under  Queen  Elizabeth's  dis- 
pleasure ;  and  last  but  not  least  of  poor  Essex's  disgrace. 
All  three  were  back  in  London  the  latter  part  of  1599. 
Essex,  under  arrest  in  the  Lord  Keeper's  House  and 
Rutland  and  Southampton — to  quote  from  a  letter  of 
Rowland  White  to  Sir  Robert  Sidney — now  among 
the  Sidney  papers — "Lords  Rutland  and  Southampton 
come  not  to  court;  they  spend  all  their  time  at  the 
theatres;"  another  letter  in  the  same  bundle,  written 
by  Herbert  Gray,  a  Kinsman  of  Sidney's,  states  that  he 
"overheard  the  actor  Shaksper  complain  to  my  lord 
Rutland  of  the  difficulty  in  procuring  good  actors  for 
the  female  parts."  (Men  actors  played  female  parts  in 
those  days.) 

Rutland  received  various  distinguished  honors  from 

Queen   Elizabeth   and   remains   much   at   his  castle  in 

Leicestershire,    occupied   by   amending   old   plays    and 

writing  new  ones.    Most  of  his  plays  were  performed 

soon  after  he  completed  them;  but  in  no  instance  did 

he   allow    them    to    be   printed.      Piratical    publishers, 

however,  by  bribery  or  otherwise  procured  prompt 

1600    book  copies  and  rushed  them  into  print.     This 

accounts  for  the  "divers  stolen  and  surreptitious 

quartos,  maimed  and  deformed  by  frauds  and  stealths 

of  injurious  imp  osiers  that  exposed  them"  mentioned 

in  Address  to  Readers  prefacing  the  Folio  of  1623. 

Rutland  dared  not  protest,  and  dared  not  allow  his 


10 

dummy,  Shaksper,  to  do  anything,  as  any  move  on  their 
part  would  jeopardize  their  secret,  which  had  to  be 
maintained,  as  Rutland  stated  in  his  Sonnet  No.  72: 
"My  name  be  buried  where  my  body  is." 

It  is  beyond  doubt  that  dummy  Shaksper  showed 
his  thrift  in  supplying  these  pirate  printers  with  copy. 
Rutland  was  helpless  and  could  only  vent  his  feelings 
in  painting  Shaksper's  true  character  in  the  various 
plays  he  wrote.  For  instance: — The  Stratford  man's 
character  is  delineated  in  Falstaff,  a  cunning  roysterer, 
jovial,  dishonest,  debauched  and  fat. 

In  Sir  Toby  Belch,  a  similar  character,  but  more 
stupid. 

In  Christopher  Sly,  a  tavern  sot  who  wished  to  be  a 
lord. 

In  Parolles,  a  creature  who  betrays  his  master. 
In  Autolicus,  a  knave  without  a  conscience. 
In  Merchant  of  Venice,  "Gratiano"  as  to  garrulity  and 
bonhommie. 

In  As  You  Like  It,  "Martext"  describes  the  disreputable 
Shaksper  marriage.  (?) 

In  Tempest,  "Stephano"  portrays  Shaksper  to  the  life, 
especially  when  he  tries  to  steal  Prospero's  cloak 
(authorship?). 

By  the  end  of  1600,  Rutland  had  completed  "King 
Henry  IV."  part  i  and  part  2;  "King  Henry  V.;" 
"Merchant  of  Venice;"  "Titus  Andronicus;"  "Mid- 
Summer  Night's  Dream"  (Rutland's  own  wedding 
rhapsodic) ;  "Much  Ado  About  Nothing ;"  "As  You 
Like  It;"  "All's  Well  that  Ends  Well;"  "Comedy  of 
Errors"  and  "Measure  for  Measure." 

The  Earl  of  Essex  had  rebelled  under  the  harsh 
treatment  of  Queen  Elizabeth  and  had  formed  a  con- 
spiracy to  free  the  court  of  his  enemies.  At  the  first 
alarm  Rutland  rushed  to  the  side  of  his  friend  who 
now  stood  in  danger  of  his  life.  On  Saturday,  Feb- 
ruary 7,  1601,  Essex  ordered  the  play  of  "King  Richard 
II."  to  be  performed  at  the  Globe,  and  R«itJsi!u  hac 
inserted  the  dethronement  scene  for  M;:s  c^,  c.  ... 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  RUTLAND.  ' 

daughter  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,       J,    e    •**.  J 

BELVOIRa'cASTLE. 


11 

1601  occasion.  The  performance  took  place  but  the 
conspirators  were  much  disappointed  to  find 
that  the  populace  were  not  stirred  up  as  much  as  they 
had  hoped,  for  when  the  Essex  Cli  que  broke  out  in 
open  revolt  on  Sunday,  February  8th,  they  found  the 
streets  almost  deserted.  The  upshot  was — the  Earl  of 
Essex  was  beheaded;  some  other  conspirators  hanged; 
Southampton  who  was  also  in  the  fray,  was  sent  to 
the  Tower  for  life ;  two  of  Rutland's  brothers  got 
away  almost  without  a  scratch,  but  Rutland  himself, 
thanks  to  Francis  Bacon  giving  the  Queen  a  hint  as  to 
the  Authorship  of  "King  Richard  II.,"  was  first  fined 
£30,000;  then  all  his  ancestral  estates  were  confiscated,, 
and  to  crown  all  he  was  condemned  to  imprisonment 
in  the  Tower  for  life.  This  is  what  Rutland  got  for 
writing  "King  Richard  II.;"  for  being  "Shake-Speare" 
while  his  dummy  Shaksper  of  Strat ford-on- Avon  was 
unmolested  and  drank  his  beer  in  peace  in  the  "Liberty 
of  the  Clink,"  where  he  lodged. 

Rutland  had  written  many  Sonnets  in  the  past  as 
testified  to  by  Francis  Meres  in  his  Paladis  Tamia  pub- 
lished in  1598.  These  early  Sonnets  were  in  manuscript^, 
circulating  among  private  friends.  Meres  also  mentions 
a  number  of  plays  which  had  at  that  time  not  been 
printed,  these  also  he  saw  in  the  manuscript.  Meres 
ascribes  them  to  "Shake-Speare."  It  is  here  interesting 
to  note  that  this  Francis  Meres  was  a  brother-in-law  of 
Resolute  John  Florio  who  acted  as  Southampton's 
literary  man  and  private  secretary.  Rutland,  when  in 
London  always  made  Drury  House  (Southampton's 
residence)  his  home.  Rutland  became  intimate  with  the 
Resolute  Secretary,  John  Florio,  helped  that  Italian 
Language  master  in  his  translation  of  the  Essays  of 
Montaigne,  and  was  in  familiar  intercourse  with  him. 
When  Francis  Meres  visited  his  brother-in-law,  Florio', 
the  latter  let  him  see  some  of  these  Sonnets  and  plays 
in  order  to  have  them  mentioned  in  his  forthcoming 
book  "Paladis  Tamia"  (Wits  Treasury) ;  but  Florio 
did  not  inform  him  as  to  Rutland's  identity  with  "Shake- 


12 

Speare"  for  obvious  reasons. 

Now,  Rutland,  to  while  away  tedious  hours  in  his 
gloomy  cell  in  the  Tower,  wrote  and  re-wrote  his  old 
Sonnets  from  memory.  In  them  he  apostrophized  his 
"genius"  as  a  lovely  and  beautiful  youth. 

He  dared  not  write  plays — and  none  were  written 
during  1601  and  1603  while  he  was  in  the  Tower. 

In  marrying  Lady  Sidney,  Rutland  got  possession  of 
all  the  books,  letters  and  manuscripts  of  her  celebrated 
father,  Sir  Philip.  It  has  been  generally  admitted  that 
all  the  Shake-Speareian  Sonnets  were  so  much  in  the 
Sidney  spirit  and  style  that  Sir  Philip  had  written  like 
"Shake-Speare"  even  before  "Shake-Speare"  wrote  at 
all.  Some  of  the  "Shake-Speareian"  Sonnets  are  para- 
phrases of  those  written  by  Sidney  to  Stella.  The 
"Black  Lady"  of  the  Sonnets  is  Rutland's  erratic  and 
tyrannical  "Muse"  that  'plays  with  his  genius. 

To  think  that  these  Sonnets  (excepting  a  few)  were 
written  to  a  living  person  would  brand  Shake-Speare's 
character  as  licencious  and  obscene.  One  exception 
is  No.  81  addressed  to  William  Herbert,  Earl  of  Pem- 
brooke,  who  was  Rutland's  cousin  and  became  his 
literary  executor  when  Rutland  died.  The  six  last  lines 
of  this  Sonnet  No.  81  are  written  upon  parchment  and 
were  pasted  on  the  back  of  a  portrait  of  Lord  Pem- 
broke, and  this  picture  hangs  to  this  day  in  the  Double 
Cube  Room  of  Wilton  House,  near  Salisbury. 

Rutland,  prisoner  in  Tower,  occupied  as  above  set 
forth. 

At  this  point  it  would  be  advisable  to  read  these 
Sonnets  from  the  point  of  view  here  outlined  and  to 
note  particularly  how  perfectly  natural  and  rational 
they  are.  Also  note  how  Rutland  continually  harps 
upon  death.  Sudden  death — as  he  afterwards  continues 
to  do  in  "Hamlet"  and  when  these  outlines  of 
1602  his  career  are  concluded  you  will  find  that  Rut- 
land was  true  to  his  instinctive  premonition  by 
dying  very  suddenly,  by  suicide — driven  thereto  by  per- 
secution or  by  deliberately  planned  murder  by  one 


13 

who  had  every  interest  in  getting  Rutland  out  of  the 
way.  What  adds  to  this  mystery  is  the  fact  that  Lady 
Rutland,  at  the  age  of  only  27,  died  suddenly  only  a 
few  days  later. 

The  dark  clouds  that  have  been  hovering  over  Rut- 
land for  the  past  two  years  are  beginning  to  show  a 
silver  lining,  perhaps  a  refraction  from  the  shroud  of 
Queen  Elizabeth  who  was  dying.  On  March 
1603  24th  she  expired  and  James  of  Scotland  was  at 
once  notified.  Before  the  new  Sovereign  started 
for  London,  he  sent  advance  couriers  to  the  Tower 
to  liberate  Southampton  and  Rutland  and  James  re- 
quested the  latter  to  proceed  forthwith  to  his  castle, 
Belvoir,  and  act  as  host  to  the  King  upon  his  arrival 
there  enroute  for  London.  On  April  23rd,  Rutland 
receives  King  James  I.  at  Belvoir,  who  at  once  re- 
instates the  young  lord  in  honor  and  estates  and  also 
heaps  further  honors  upon  him.  Thfe  King  further,  as 
a  special  mark  of  his  regard  appoints  Rutland  as  his 
personal  Ambassador  to  King  Christian  IV.  of  Den- 
mark, to  invest  the  Dansker  King  with  the  Order  of 
the  Garter  and  also  to  stand  sponsor  for  King  James  at 
the  Christening  of  a  baby  prince. 

The  old  play  of  Hamlet  had  been  repeatedly  per- 
formed before  this  time,  but  this  year  it  was  put  in 
print  by  some  piratical  publisher  who  stated  on  the 
title  page  that  he  was  acting  for  one  "John  Trundell" 
In  the  absence  of  any  contemporary  of  that  name  in 
the  literary  circles  of  that  day,  it  is  more  than  likely 
that  the  publisher  suspecting  Rutland's  Authorship, 
purposely  made  an  imperfect  anagram  of  John  Rut- 
land, 4th  Earl  of  that  name,  Rutland's  father.  This 
pirate  publisher  did  not  dare  go  so  far  as  to  plainly 
spell  the  fictitious  name  "Trundal"  which  would  make 
his  allusion  all  too  plain. 

On  June  28th  Rutland  sailed  from  Gravesend  for 
Elsinore  where  he  arrived  on  the  7th  of  July.  Among 
the  first  to  greet  him  at  King  Christian's  Court  were  his 
old  fellow  students  at  Padua  University — our  old 


14 

familiars — Rosencrans  and  Guilderstern.  He  also  was 
received  by  State  Counsellor  Romelius  who  in  conjunc- 
tion with  the  Swedish  Representative  named  Ploenies, 
furnished  Rutland  with  a  new  name  for  old  Carambis 
of  the  first  "Hamlet" — and  Rutland  in  re-writing  his 
Hamlet  names  this  character  "Polonius." 

On  July  I4th,  Rutland  gave  a  banquet  to  King  Chris- 
tian and  the  Danish  Court,  and  on  the  28th  King  Chris- 
tian escorted  Rutland  aboard  his  vessel.  A  terrific  storm 
broke  loose  soon  after  leaving  port  and  although  the 
vessel  was  pointing  for  Gravesend  the  party  were  buf- 
fetted  about  on  the  North  Sea  for  fourteen  days,  and 
finally  were  blown  some  200  miles  out  of  their  course, 
landing  at  Scarboro  on  August  nth.  On  September 
2Oth  Rutland  made  his  report  to  King  James  at  Theo- 
balds. The  King  was  so  delighted  with  Rutland's 
management  of  his  Embassage  that  he  invested  him 
with  the  Garter  and  appointed  him  Lord  Lieutenant  of 
Lincoln  County  and  other  honorable  posts.  Rutland 
being  no  courtier  in  any  sense  of  the  word,  retired  from 
the  court  as  soon  as  he  could  conveniently  do  so.  He 
spent  the  next  two  months  in  retirement  at  Dtury 
House  in  London,  and  at  Cambridge,  and  to  this  leisure 
do  we  owe  the  perfect  "Hamlet"  we  now  have. 

On  December  2,  1603,  King  James  visited  the  Earl  of 
Pembroke  at  Wilton  House  near  Salisbury,  where 
Rutland  joined  the  Court  for  a  few  days.  Lady  Pem- 
broke had  arranged  to  have  Burbage's  Company  of 
Actors  come  to  Wilton  to  perform  "As  You  Like  It" 
before  the  King.  When  the  actors  arrived  at  Wilton 
House  the  King's  party  had  not  yet  returned  from  an 
excursion  to  Stonehenge.  Lady  Pembroke  sent  a  mes- 
senger to  her  son,  Lord  Pembroke,  with  a  letter  stat- 
ing that  the  players  had  arrived  and  that  "that  man, 
Shaksper"  was  with  them.  This  letter  is  still  in  ex- 
istence. 

Lady  Pembroke  was  the  sister  of  the  chivalrous  Sir- 
Philip  Sidney  and  was  herself  considered  to  be  about 
the  acme  of  all  that  was  refined  and  noble.  She  knew 


ROGER    MANNERS, 
5th  Earl  of  Rutland, 

at 
BELVOIR  CASTLE. 


15 


that  Shaksper  was  but  her  nephew  Rutland's  dummy 
and  naturally  evinced  some  curiosity  to  see  him.  The 
tone  of  her  letter  proves  very  well  that  she  knew  the 
Stratford  man  was  not  the  great  dramatist.  She  pat- 
ronized poor  authors,  Massinger  lived  at  Wilton  House 
for  some  time,  so  did  Samuel  Daniel,  and  Rare  Ben 
Jonson  received  a  pension  of  £20  per  annum  from  the 
Pembrokes.  Under  these  circumstances  it  was  alto- 
gether fitting  that  Lady  Pembroke  should  refer  to 
Shaksper  as  "that  man"  knowing  him  to  be  Rutland's 
dummy  and  his  model  for  Falstaff  and  a  number  of 
other  disreputable  characters  in  his  plays.  Even  Lady 
Southampton  referred  to  Shaksper  as  "Falstaff"  in  a 
letter  to  her  lord  when  he  was  in  Ireland  with  Essex 
in  1599.  Sir  Toby  Matthews  also  in  a  letter  to  Francis 
Bacon  refers  to  Shaksper  as  Falstaff. 

John  Manningham  in  his  diary,  now  in  the  British 
Musuem  made  entry  of  an  anecdote  discreditable  to 
Shaksper,  completing  the  entry  by  the  words,  "Shak- 
sper's  name  William." 

This  Manningham  was  a  Middle  Temple  barrister,  a 
man  about  town  and  was  certainly  familiar  with  the 
Shake-Speareian  plays  that  had  appeared  up  to  the 
date  of  his  diary  entry,  which  was  March  13,  1601-2, 
but  even  he  did  not  recognize  the  great  dramatist  in 
the  disreputable  actor  Shaksper — the  remark  his  "name 
William"  proves  that  much. 

Rutland  spent  almost  the  whole  of  the  year  1604  in 

absolute    retirement   dividing  his   sojournings   between 

Drury  House,  London,  his  apartments  at  Cam- 

1604  bridge  and  his   Castle  of   Belvoir  in  Leicester- 
shire according  to  season  and  predelections  as  to 

change  of  scene  and  air.  Lady  Rutland  was  his  con- 
stant companion,  only  remaining  at  home  when  her 
lord  went  upon  some  special  mission  or  excursion. 

The  year  1605  was  another  span  of  almost  uninter- 
rupted leisure  for  Rutland,  and,  with  the  exception  of 
a  few  weeks  stay  at  Court     and  accompanying 

1605  King    Tames    to    Oxford,    Rutland    devoted    all 


16 

of  his  leisure  moments  to  amending  old  plays 
and  planning  and  writing  new  ones. 

By  the  end  of  1605  Rutland  had  added  to  his  list  of 
plays  the  "Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  completed  early 
in  1601,  just  before  the  Essex  Revolt,  and  this  play 
was  piratically  printed  while  Rutland  was  prisoner  in 
the  Tower  in  1602 ;  but  was  later  on  amended  and  aug- 
mented and  in  its  new  form  was  not  again  printed  dur- 
ing Rutland's  lifetime.  The  Folio  of  1623  first  brought 
the  perfect  "Merry  Wives"  to  view. 

"Hamlet"  was  the  next  play  which  Rutland  completed 
after  his  visit  to  Elsinore  when  he  grasped  the  oppor- 
tunity of  giving  that  perfect  local  color  to  his  great 
tragedy. 

This  tragedy  was  chosen  by  the  Elder  Rutland  as 
a  conveyance  for  his  well-founded  suspicion  that  the 
Earl  of  Leicester,  the  Queen's  favorite,  had  poisoned 
the  First  Earl  of  Essex,  to  marry  the  widow,  the 
mother  of  the  celebrated  Essex,  Rutland's  friend  and 
kinsman. 

Rutland  also  completed  his  "King  Henry  VIIL"  dur- 
ing this  year.  This  History  was  written  principally 
to  immortalize  his  never-to-be-forgotten  friend,  the  (as 
Rutland  thought)  martyred  Essex.  If  in  this  drama 
Robert,  Second  Earl  of  Essex  were  substituted  for  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham  and  Queen  Elizabeth  for  King 
Henry  it  would  be  almost  true  to  actual  occurrences. 

In  Act  I.,  Scene  2,  King  Henry  speaks  to  the  Queen 
of  Buckingham's  intellect  and  great  qualifications,  con- 
trasting same  with  the  blackness  of  his  crime.  He  also 
speaks  of  his  intimate  associate,  the  Surveyor. 

Just  so  spoke  Queen  Elizabeth  of  Essex  and  Francis 
Bacon  after  the  revolt  in  1601.  Again  in  Act  II.,  Scene 
i,  the  fragmentary  speech  of  Buckingham  coming  from 
his  arraignment  is  a  perfect  paraphrase  of  Essex's  re- 
marks before  execution.  Thus  did  Rutland  relieve  the 
pressure  upon  his  heart  by  writing  down  the  sad  mem- 
ories that  occasioned  it. 

"Troilus  and  Cressida"  was  also  completed  in  1605, 


17 

but  was  not  printed  until  the  pirate  publisher  got  the 
manuscript  from  the  "grand  possessors"  who  were 
loth  to  part  with  it  as  is  plainly  stated  in  the  preface 
to  this  nondescript  production. 

"Twelfth  Night"  or  "What  You  Will"  was  also  writ- 
ten this  year  and  in  it  Rutland  plays  with  the  char- 
acters of  Rare  Ben  Jonson  and  his  whilom  boon  com- 
panion Shaksper.  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek  (Ben  Jonson) 
wants  to  possess  Sir  Toby  Belch's  (Shaksper)  niece, 
Olivia,  i.  e.,  Shaksper's  secret  regarding  his  dummyship 
for  Rutland. 

Ben  Jonson  told  Drummond  of  Hawthornden  in  1619 
that  Rutland  had  given  him  to  understand  that  his 
(Jonson's)  presence  at  Lady  Rutland's  receptions  to 
other  literary  men  were  not  desired.  Rutland  suspected 
Ben  was  trying  to  unravel  the  mystery  of  his  (Rut- 
land's) authorship — which  in  all  truth  Ben  was  doing. 
In  later  years  Jonson  became  convinced  and  it  required 
a  pension  of  £20  per  annum  to  keep  his  mouth  shut 

"Cymboline"  was  another  conveyance  for  Essex 
reminiscences  and  in  the  character  of  Belario  he  pic- 
tures Essex  as  having  weaned  Southampton  (Guiderius) 
and  himself  (Rutland)  as  Aviragus  from  the  Court  of 
Queen  Elizabeth.  This  fact  is  established  by  the  true 
parallel  of  these  incidents  and  by  the  character  paint- 
ing— portraits — of  this  inseparable  triumvirate  of  true 
and  never  dying  friendship. 

"Timon  of  Athens"  furnished  Rutland  with  the  frame 
work  upon  which  he  could  fill  in  Essex's  sad  experi- 
ences, especially  the  ingratitude  of  erstwhile  friends, 
Raleigh,  Cecil,  Howard  and  not  to  forget  the  "Et  tu 
Brute"  Francis  Bacon,  upon  hearing  whose  speech  of 
condemnation  at  his  trial  in  1601,  Essex  wrapped  his 
mantle  around  him  and  prepared  for  the  block.  It  was 
Francis  Bacon  who  ground  the  axe  that  severed  the 
head  of  Essex  from  the  body. 

The  year  1606  gave  Rutland  eleven  months  of  un- 
interrupted leisure  for  literary  work.  The  month 
from  July  i$th  to  August  isth  saw  Rutland  at  Court. 


18 

King  James  had  placed  hkn  in  charge  of  the 
1606  reception  of  King  Christian  IV.  of  Denmark. 
Rutland  accompanied  the  King  to  Gravesend  on 
the  i6th  and  they  were  obliged  to  wait  there  until  next 
day  as  the  royal  Dansker  fleet  was  expected  at  any 
moment. 

On  the  I7th,  the  fleet  hove  in  sight  and  King  James 
and  Rutland  took  a  boat  to  meet  it.  In  due  time  they 
boarded  the  royal  vessel  and  had  breakfast.  Later  in 
the  day  Rutland  gave  both  his  royal  friends  a  ban- 
quet at  Deptford;  but  during  the  subsequent  days  of 
Christian's  stay  Rutland  remained  much  in  the  back- 
ground as  the  disgraceful  carryings  on  at  Court, 
drunken  orgies  participated  in  by  certain  Court  ladies 
and  other  unmentionable  occurrences  were  gall  and 
wormwood  to  the  soul  of  Rutland  who  sighed  to  get 
back  to  his  life-work,  his  literary  labors,  his  works 
of  "Shake-Speare."  Some  days  before  King  Chris- 
tian departed  for  Denmark,  Rutland  had  retired  to  Cam- 
bridge, his  favorite  workshop,  and  by  the  end  of  this 
year  he  added  "King  John;"  "Macbeth;"  "Othello;" 
and  the  triology  of  "King  Henry  VI."  to  his  previous 
list  of  plays. 

"King  John"  was  written  to  commemorate  his  own 
participation  with  the  "Fireie  voluntaries"  opposing 
papist  dictation,  his  Azores  expedition  in  1597.  In 
"Macbeth"  Rutland  felt  he  would  give  King  James  a 
pleasure  in  tracing  his  descent  through  "Banquo." 

"Othello"  was  a  fond  recollection  of  his  Venetian 
days  and  was  completed  from  the  sketch  he  there 
made;  but  in  the  triology  of  King  Henry  VI.,  Rut- 
land gave  full  vent  to  his  just  family  pride,  for  he 
was  a  Plantagenet,  George  Manners,  Knight,  having 
married  a  daughter  of  Anne  St.  Leger,  sister  of  King 
Edward  IV.  and  Richard  III.  This  triology  he  found 
among  the  old  Mss.  his  father  left  him  entitled  the 
"Contention  of  Lancaster  and  York,"  and  the  "True 
History  of  Richard,  Duke  of  York." 

As    in    "King    Richard    II."    Rutland    describes   the 


19 

treason  of  Aumerle,  Earl  of  Rutland,  as  a  parallel  to 
his  own  treason  of  1601,  and  in  "King  Henry  V."  he 
eulogises  this  same  Aumerle  (now  become  Duke  of 
York)  so  in  the  third  part  of  "King  Henry  VI."  he 
weeps  bitter  tears  over  the  murder  of  that  lovable 
young  Rutland  who  was  slain  by  Clifford  at  Sandal 
Castle  in  1460,  and  the  agony  of  the  Duke  of  York 
when  he  was  so  brutally  murdered  after  the  battle  of 
Wakefield  in  that  same  year. 

The  three  great  Roman  tragedies  were  the  product 
of  the  year  1607,  and  Rutland  had  ample  leisure  to 
give  these  masterpieces  the  full  benefit  of  his  genius. 

The  history  of  Coriolanus  furnished  Rutland 
1607  with  an  almost  perfect  parallel  to  Essex's 
bravery  at  Cadiz  in  1596,  where,  like  the  Roman 
hero,  the  fearless  Essex  drove  the  rabble  off  the  mar- 
ket place — single-handed — "Alone  I  did  it,  boy!" 
(Coriolanus.) 

"Julius  Caesar"  rehearses  the  Essex  conspiracy  and 
while  he  assigns  the  character  of  "Cassius"  to  Essex, 
Rutland  gave  a  likeness  of  himself  in  "Brutus."  It 
must  be  remembered  that  although  Rutland's  love  for 
Essex  was  sincere,  he  was  not  totally  blind  to  that 
many-sided  man's  faults.  Queen  Elizabeth  is  the 
"Caesar"  and  although  she  was  not  slaughtered  at  the 
foot  of  Pompey's  statue,  it  was  believed  by  many 
people  of  those  times  and  even  by  many  good  men  of 
today  that  good  Queen  Bess  was  assisted  over  the 
border  by  a  gentle  (?)  pressure  on  her  royal  windpipe 
March  24,  1603. 

"Anthony  and  Cleopatra"  gave  Rutland  data  for 
an  object  lesson — showing  how  self  will  and  stubborn- 
ness is  nothing  but  vanity  or  false  pride.  Vanity  was 
the  Cleopatra  that  caused  Essex  to  lose  his  head,  as 
even  Antony  lost  his.  Essex  was  free  to  ask  pardon 
of  the  Queen  and  was  sure  of  preserving  his  life. 

Had  Anthony  gone  to  Octavius,  he  too  would  have 
been  forgiven.  History,  Philosophy  and  Logic  vouch 
for  this. 


20 

The  harvest  of  Rutland's  literary  production  during 

1608  was  rich  in  quality,  if  somewhat  low  in  quantity. 

That  masterpiece  "King  Lear"  was  completed  this  year, 

and  as  the  stories  of  ancient  Kings  with  three 

1608  daughters    acting    under    similar    circumstances 
in  like  manner  are  told  in  various  countries  we 

must  look  to  Gloster,  Edgar,  Edmund  and  Kent  for 
Rutland's  motive  in  devoting  so  much  attention  to 
this  tragedy.  The  pearls  of  Philosophy  scattered 
through  this  drama  would  seem  to  have  furnished 
Rutland  with  ample  motive  for  writing  it;  but  "in- 
justice" experienced  by  Essex — whose  very  memory 
haunted  Rutland's  brain — will,  when  all  is  told,  be  found 
to  be  at  the  root  of  all  this  drama  contains.  On  April 
23rd  of  this  year,  Rutland  entertained  King  James  at 
Belvoir,  at  which  time  his  majesty  knighted  Rutland's 
younger  brother,  Oliver. 

This  incident  was  the  only  disturbance  of  Rutland's 
leisure,  this  year  of  which  any  record  has  thus  far 
been  discovered,  and  he  found  ample  time  to  go  over 
the  work  of  previous  years,  besides  amending  the  old 
"Pericles"  which  after  several  performances  was 
piratically  published  in  1609,  but  was  for  some  reason, 
not  included  in  the  Folio  of  1623,  and  was  not  included 
in  the  subsequent  editions  of  the  Folio  until  that  of 
1664.  The  following  year  King  James  heaps  further 
honors  upon  his  recluse  of  Belvoir  by  appointing  him 
Steward  of  the  Honor  of  Bennington  and  Steward  of 
Mansfield,  County  Notts,  on  June  24th. 

This  year,  Rutland  was  greatly  surprised  by  the  pub- 
lication of  his  Sonnets  which  one  Thomas  Thorpe  had 
somehow  gotten  into  his  hands  and  which  this 

1609  pirate  could  fearlessly  publish  as  there  was  no 
one  to  raise  protest.     Rutland  dared  not  avow 

them  and  Shaksper,  his  dummy,  knew  nothing  about 
them. 

Troilus  and  Cressida  also  appeared  in  print  early 
this  year,  with  a  preface  proclaiming  the  escape  this 
play  had  from  the  hands  of  certain  "grand  possessors" 


21 

who,  evidently,  in  spite  of  all  their  grandeur  dared  make 
no  protest.  Knowing  full  well  that  a  protest  was  the 
very  thing  the  publishers  were  waiting  for  in  order  to 
solve  the  mystery  as  to  the  identity  of  "Shake-Speare" 
Dividing  his  time  between  Belvoir,  Cambridge,  and 
London  without,  however,  emerging  from  his  seclusion 
wherever  he  might  be,  Rutland  occupied  himself  with 
his  literary  work  until  early  in  June  the  following  year, 
when  he  came  to  London  at  the  express  wish  of  King 
James,  to  assist  at  the  installation  of  Prince  Henry 
as  Prince  of  Wales,  on  June  loth,  after  which  cere- 
mony, Rutland  returned  to  Cambridge  in  order 

1610  to  devote  himself  to  his  books  and  literary  work 
from  which  seclusion  he  did  not  emerge   until 

the  news  of  his  sudden   death   astounded  his   family 
and  intimate  friends  (two  years  later.)  During  this  nine- 
teen  months   of   uninterrupted   leisure,   Rutland   com- 
pleted his  drama,  "Winter's  Tale"  in  which  his 

1611  caleidoscopic  fancy  revelled,  skipping  about  from 
one  era  of  the  world's  history  to  another,  mingling 

fact  and  fancy  and  reviewing  his  work  in  the  character 
of  the  Sicilian  gentleman  "Rogero"  (the  only  instance 
throughout  his  works  where  Rutland  actually  gives  the 
world  his  baptismal  name,  Roger).  As  Rutland  so 
often  expressed  in  his  Sonnets,  it  seems  that  this  year 
he  had  a  premonition  of  death,  and,  acting  upon  this 
impulse  he  founded  a  Free  School  and  also  a  Hospital 
in  the  village  of  Bottesford,  in  the  vale  of  Belvoir,  in 
Leicestershire,  where  most  of  his  ancestors  lie  en- 
tombed. In  spite  of  this  example  which  Rutland  set 
his  dummy,  William  Shaksper  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  to 
follow,  as  far  as  the  latter's  means  would  allow,  the 
dun  swan  preferred  to  paint  his  own  unmistakable  like- 
ness in  the  last  thing  he  ever  did,  i.  e.,  by  interlining 
in  his  infamous  "Will  and  Testament"  the  legacy  to  the 
poor  woman,  thought  by  all  to  be  his  wife,  Ann  Hatha- 
way, of  his  "second  best  bed  and  its  furniture,"  which, 
by  the  way,  Anna,  knowing  no  wedding  had  ever  bound 
her  to  the  actor,  William  Shaksper,  took  shortly  after 


22 

the  latter's  death  to  the  habitation  of  one  Richard  James 
whom  she  did  marry,  and,  as  whose  widow  she  died 
according  to  the  Stratford  Church  records  existing  to 
this  day. 

Within  the  first  half  of  this  lamentable  year  lies 
buried  the  climax  and  termination  of  the  life  of 
Roger,  5th  Earl  of  Rutland.  What  time  he  had  to 
spare  before  his  "Ariel"  clamored  for  release, 
1612  and  before  this  representative  of  the  soul  of 
Rutland  was  to  take  flight,  the  master  mind  of 
past  and  present  ages  devoted  to  his  "Autobiography." 
True  to  his  determination,  as  expressed  in  his  Sonnet 
No.  72  that  "My  name  be  buried  where  my  body  is" 
he  threw  a  veil  around  this  last  and  most  wonderful  of 
his  works,  "The  Tempest" 

Rutland  was  not  vindictive,  and  charitably  hid  the 
crimes  of  his  brother,  Francis,  under  the  mask  of 
"Antonio."  This  Francis  was  a  rank  papist;  believed 
in  witchcraft  to  the  extent  of  burning  some  poor  women 
alive,  and  brazingly  announcing  the  fact  upon  his 
nausiatingly  elaborate  tomb  at  Bottesford,  in  imperish- 
able marble.  It  was  this  Francis  who  first  banished 
"Prospero"  and  finally  drove  his  brother,  Roger,  di- 
rectly or  by  indirection,  to  an  untimely  grave,  where 
"Miranda"  in  the  duo-creation  of  his  daughter,  Muse, 
and  wife  followed  him  within  a  few  days. 

When  "Prospero"  had  finished  writing  his  memoirs, 
which,  however,  covered  only  the  latter  part  of  his  life 
over  which  the  heavy  and  dark  clouds  of  melancholy 
had  hovered  so  oppressingly,  he  "broke  his  staff"  and 
"drowned  his  book,"  he  released  his  "Ariel"  and  Roger 
of  Rutland  died,  suddenly  and  mysteriously,  on  the  26th 
day  of  June,  1612,  which  fell  upon  a  Friday,  the  blackest 
Friday  in  the  World  of  Literature. 

His  body  was  conveyed  from  Cambridge  secretly  to 
Bottesford  Church  where  his  tomb  had  been  hurriedly 
prepared  for  its  reception.  Its  arrival  had  been  timed  for 
the  night — July  2oth — and  the  body  was  secretly  laid 


23 

within  the  tomb.  It  was  upon  a  Monday  when  the 
church  would  be  closed  for  a  week  to  allow  time  to 
remove  all  indications  of  interior  disturbance,  and  it 
was  not  until  two  days  after  this  mysterious  burial,  that 
informal  funeral  services  were  held  at  Belvoir  Castle 
in  the  presence  of  the  immediate  family.  Lady  Rutland, 
his  devoted  wife,  daughter  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  ex- 
pired within  a  few  days,  aged  twenty-seven  years,  and 
was  laid  to  rest  beside  her  gifted  husband.  She  also 
had  died  suddenly,  and  the  mystery  surrounding  these 
two  sad  events  point  unerringly  to  suicide  or  murder, 
either  of  which  conclusions  would  be  sufficient  to  ac- 
count for  the  position  taken  by  the  present  (1911)  rep- 
resentative of  the  Rutland  Family,  his  refusal  !to 
move  in  the  matter,  and  his  statement  in  a  letter  to  the 
writer  that  he  felt  disinclined  to  enter  further  into  the 
subject — '"regrets  that  he  cannot  move  in  the  matter." 

In  March,  1613,  William  Shaksper  of  Stratford-on- 

Avon,  was  living  over  a  wigmaker's  shop  on  Mugwell 

Street  in  London,  and  was  involved  in  some  unsavory 

litigation,   records   of   which   were   recently  dis- 

1613    covered  and  printed  in  full  in  the  New  Shake- 

speriana  of  recent  issue  (1910). 

On  the  3ist  of  this  month,  the  ex-dummy,  Shaksper, 
collected  from  Francis,  Sixth  Earl  of  Rutland  (brother 
and  successor  of  Roger)  the  sum  of  44  shillings  (about 
$85  of  our  money,  today)  balance  owing  the  Stratford 
man  as  dummy.  The  entry  in  the  account  book  of  the 
Belvoir  Steward  says  this  payment  was  for  writing  a 
"motto"  for  the  new  Earl.  (Was  this  motto  "Silence 
is  golden"?) 

The  Great  First  Folio  was  published  this  year  by  the 
Pembroke    brothers    (cousins    of    Rutland)    who    em- 
ployed Rare  Ben  Jonson  to  write  the  "Dedication"  to 
themselves,  as  well  as  the  "Address  to  a  Variety 
1623    of  Readers"     Also  the   lines  to  the  composite 
"Figure"    purporting   to    be    a    likeness   of    the 
Author  and  the  seventy  laudatory  lines  of  undisguised 
ambiguity   prefacing   the   Folio;    but   the   unvarnished 


24 

astonishment  expressed  in  the  lines  signed  I.   M.  by 

the   Earl   of    Montgomery,   cousin   of   Rutland,   points 

unerringly  to   Rutland's  identity  with  "Shake-Speare" 

and  to  the  sad  and  sudden  end  of  that  unapproachable 

genius.     They  commence: 

"We   wondered    (Shakespeare)    that   thou   went'st   so 

soon." 

Montgomery's  wondering  indicates  that  Rutland's 
death  was  unexpected;  the  word  "went'st"  would  indi- 
cate "going,"  deliberately  leaving  this  existence  and  "so 
soon"  points  forcibly  to  an  early  death — the  death  of 
a  young  man  at  the  prime  of  his  life — 36-37  years,  the 
age  Rutland  attained  but  hardly  applicable  to  the 
death  of  a  man  at  53  the  age  of  dummy  Shaksper  of 
Stratford  when  that  usurer  drank  himself  to  death. 

On  the  I7th  day  of  December,  1632,  Francis,  Sixth 
Earl  of  Rutland,  died  at  an  Inn  at  Bishop  Stortford 
(Hertfordshire)  ;  many  of  his  family  were  at  his  bed- 
side before  he  passed  away.  The  Belvoir  P'apers 
1632  contain  a  memorandum  written  at  the  time  by  one 
of  those  present,  purporting  to  be  the  words  of 
'"A  curious  speech"  which  the  dying  Earl  made  to  his 
family.  In  view  of  past  discoveries  this  "curious 
speech"  could  be  cleared  of  considerable  mystery.  A 
guilty  conscience  often  assumes  the  character  of 
"vision"  to  a  semi-delirious  brain.  Now,  whether 
Francis  had  such  a  vision,  either  of  the  poor  women 
he  had  burned  as  witches,  or,  more  likely  of  his  mur- 
dered brother  Roger, — murdered  by  Roger's  own  hand, 
or  by,  or  through,  the  machinations  of  Francis,  the 
present  representative  of  the  Rutland  Family,  refuses  to 
move  in  the  unravelling  of  this  tangled  mystery  although 
he  could  easily  do  so  by  producing  the  paper  above  re- 
ferred to  which  now  is  among  the  Belvoir  Papers.  The 
present  family  evidently  decline  to  redeem  the  pawned 
crown  of  "Shake-Speare"  and  put  it  upon  the  brow  of 
its  rightful  owner  and  illustrious  kinsman  at  the  ex- 
pense of  a  fancied  blot  upon  their  escutcheon.  Lord 
knows  it  is  sufficiently  marred  by  the  delightful  Richard 


FRANCIS  MANNE.RS, 

Brother  and  Successor 

to  Roger,  5th  Earl  of  Rutland. 


BELVOIR CASTLE 
in  Rutland's  time. 


25 

of  Gloster,  whose  sister,  Anna,  infused  royal  blood  into 
the  Rutland  Family.  In  this  prosaic  age  of  Fact,  His- 
torical Discovery  and  Reason,  especially  when  fighting 
under  the  banner  of  Truth,  under  the  leadership  of 
Logic,  family  pride  should  be  laid  aside  or  smothered 
and  the  entire  world  would  thereby  reap  the  benefit  by 
the  solution  of  a  vexed  problem  and  the  establishment 
of  the  rightful  chief  of  the  realm  of  Literature. 

During  the  year  1635,  Cuthbert  Burbage,  brother  of 
Richard  Burbage,  late  proprietor  of  the  Globe  and 
Blackfriars  theatres  and  fellow  actor  of  William  Shak- 
sper,  addressed  a  long  petition  to  the  Earl  of 
1635  Pembroke  (Rutland's  cousin)  then  Chamberlain 
to  the  Royal  Household,  pleading  for  increased 
liberties  in  their  vocation  as  players.  In  this  petition, 
Cuthbert  mentions  the  fact  that  such  "deserving  men 
and  fellow  actors  as  his  brother  Richard  and  William 
Shaksper  of  Stratford  had  in  years  past  been  identified 
with  the  present  Company  of  Actors.'* 

Logic  now  compels  the  question  "would  it  not  have 
immeasurably  strengthened  this  petition  had  Cuthbert 
Burbage  mentioned  the  fact  that  this  William  Shaksper 
was  the  great  Dramatist,  the  "Swan  of  Avon,"  the 
"Picture  that  thou  see' sphere  put'?" 

But  Cuthbert  could  not,  dared  not — make  such  a  break 
for  the  simple  reason  that  (i),  he  had  known  this 
mediocre  actor,  William  Shaksper  of  Stratford,  for 
many  years  during  which  time  he  met  and  conversed 
with  him  almost  daily,  which  consequent  intimacy  con- 
vinced Cuthbert  and  his  fellow  actors  that  he  was  not  a 
writer  of  anything,  \>ut  that  he  was  a  straw  man  for 
some  unknown  nobleman.  (2), Cuthbert  also  knew  that 
the  Earl  of  Pembroke  who  had  published  the  great 
Folio  "Shake-Speare's"  works  in  1623,  knew  very  well 
who  the  mysterious  author  was,  and  would  have  treated 
Cuthbert  Burbage  with  deserved  contempt,  and  have 
consigned  the  cherished  petition  to  the  scrap  heap. 


26 

FURTHER  UNDENIABLE  FACTS  ELUCIDATING 
THE  FOREGOING  OUTLINES. 

1.  Southampton :     Much  as  has  been  said  about  this 
patron  of  literature,  and  of  his  giving  William  Shaksper 
of  Stratford  £1000,  the  plain,  unvarnished  Truth  is,  that 
never  by  word  or  deed,  did  this  nobleman  ever  recog- 
nize this  Stratford  man.     The  story  was  at  best,  first 
circulated  at  third  hand,  and  even  then  with  consider- 
able hesitation.    Some  one  had  told  Nicholas  Rowe,  in 
1708-1714  that  there  was  a  tradition  that  William  Dave- 
nant  had  told  somebody  that  at  some  time  the  Earl  of 
Southampton  had  given  Shaksper  a  thousand  pounds, 
etc. 

Now,  this  story  has  not  one  leg  to  stand  upon,  not 
one  record,  not  one  line  or  word  of  this  or  of  South- 
ampton's acknowledgment  to  Shaksper  for  alleged  dedi- 
cations by  the  latter  of  the  two  poems,  Venus  and 
Adonis  and  Lucrece. 

The  facts,  however,  are  that  Southampton,  after  Rut- 
land's death,  was  so  much  preoccupied  by  Court  and 
State  matters  that  he  was  obliged  to  leave  the  labors 
occasioned  by  the  publication  of  the  First  Folio  in 
1623  entirely  to  Rutland's  literary  executors,  the  Pem- 
broke brothers,  who,  also  being  Rutland's  cousins, 
were  considered  by  Southampton  to  be  entitled  to  that 
great  honor.  That  Southampton  insisted  upon  sharing 
the  expense  cannot  be  doubted  by  anyone  having  studied 
the  character  of  this  nobleman,  who  died  the  following 
year  (1624),  at  Bergen-op-Zoom,  of  a  fever  bromght 
on  (as  supposed  at  that  time)  by  poison  administered 
by  agents  of  the  villainous  Duke  of  Buckingham, 
whose  enmity  the  Earl  of  Southampton  had  provoked. 

2.  All  the  old  plays  which   Rutland   found  among 
his  father's  Mss.,  and  which  were  performed  at  all,  were 
acted  by  the  Earl  of  "Pembroke  Servants,"  long  before 
the  Company,  of  which  William  Shaksper  was  a  third 


27 

rate  player,  produced  any  of  them. 

The  Pembroke  and  Rutland  Families  were  closely 
related,  and,  only  after  Shaksper's  engagement  to  act 
as  dummy  for  Rutland,  were  any  of  the  "Shake- 
Speareian  "  plays  produced  by  the  Burbage  Company  to 
which  Shaksper  belonged. 

3.  In  the  "Elizabeth  Salon"  at  Belvoir  Castle,  stand 
to  this  day,  occupying  a  prominent  place  at  either  end 
of  the  room,  the  oil  painting  portraits,  full  length  and 
life  size    (painted  by  Van  Somer  in   160^)    of  Roger, 
5th    Earl    6f    Rutland,    and    of    Elizabeth,    his    /wife. 
These  portraits  are  elaborately  framed  and  swing  upon 
hinged  easels.  This  would  seem  to  prove  the  particular 
veneration  of  the  Rutland  Family  for  these  two  mys-* 
terious  members  of  that  ancient  family,  especially  as  all 
the    other    ancestors    are    represented    in    the    Gallery 
as  is  customary  in  Great  Houses  of  England  and  else- 
where. 

There  can  be  but  little  doubt  that  an  injunction  for 
maintaining  the  secret  of  the  "Shake-Speare"  identity 
was  handed  down  to  each  succeeding  head  of  the  family 
ever  since  the  Secret  was  a  Secret. 

4.  Both  father  and  son,  the  4th  and  5th  Earls  of  Rut- 
land (1550  to  1612)  had  devoted  all  the  years  of  their 
mature   life   to    literature,    but   not    one   line   of   their 
Mss.   has   as   yet   come   to   light     Lady   Rutland   had 
also   written  much    as   is   testified   to   by   Ben  Jonson, 
Francis   Beaumont,   John   Fletcher  and   others   of  the 
most  eminent  literary  men  of  that  time.     These  have 
written  long  poems  to  her  literary  genius  and  personal 
charms,  also  requiem  epistles  of  many  lines  upon  her 
sad  and  sudden  death.     Not  one  line  of  this  brilliant 
writer's  hand  has  yet  been  discovered  unless  we  discover 
in  the  exquisite  feminine  touch  given  some  of  the  fe- 
male characters  in  the  works  of  "Shake-Speare,"  the 
delicious  charm  of  Lady  Rutland's  handiwork. 

5.  The  writer  knows  where  documentary  evidence  in 
support  of  the  foregoing  facts  is  now  securely  resting. 
This  will  be  revealed  at  the  proper  time  in  the  presence 


28 

•of  reliable  persons  with  authority  to  get  at  and  pro- 
tect this  testimony,  and  prevent  same  from  becoming 
the  natural  prey  to  Stratfordian  Humbugs  and  Vandals 
or  Baconian  Fanatics. 


Of  all  the  books  written  upon  the  subject  of  the 
Shake-Speare  controversy,  the  "Shakespeare  Problem 
Restated"  by  George  G.  Greenwood,  M.P.,  recently 
issued,  gives  the  most  able,  lucid  and  convincing  argu- 
ment. Mr.  Greenwood  proves  beyond  all  cavil  that  the 
Stratford  rustic  Shaksper  could  not  have  written  the 
plays  and  poems  ascribed  to  Shake-Speare;  but  re- 
frains from  even  suggesting  the  name  of  the  mysteri- 
ous author.  It  is  more  than  gratifying  to  state  in  this 
place  that  the  portrait  of  the  real  author  drawn  by  Mr. 
Greenwood  is  a  perfect  likeness  of  the  subject  of  this 
book — Roger  Manners,  5th  Earl  of  Rutland. 

Canon  Beeching's  nimble  feats  in  argumentative 
acrobatics,  on  the  contrary,  are  a  fair  example  of  Strat- 
fordian tactics  in  combatting  Truth,  Logic  and  Facts. 


29 


NOTEWORTHY  OPINIONS  RE  SHAKSPER. 


JOSEPH  C.  HART  (U.  S.  Consul):  "It  is  a  fraud  upon  the 
world  to  thrust  his  surreptitious  fame  upon  us." 

LORD  PENZANCE:  "It  is  hard,  nay,  impossible,  to  believe 
that  this  uninstructed,  untutored  youth,  as  he  came  from 
Stratford,  should  have  written  these  plays." 

S.  T.  COLERIDGE:  "What!  Are  we  to  have  miracles  in 
sport?  Does  God  choose  idiots  by  whom  to  convey  divine 
truths  to  man?" 

HENRY  HALLAM:  "Shakespeare  is  but  a  name.  Licentious 
amours  and  drunken  frolics  don't  tell  us  who  wrote  Lear." 

LORD  PALMERSTON:  "Rejoiced  in  the  'explosion  of  (con- 
tra Stratford)  the  Shakespearian  illusions.'  " 

ROBT.  M.  THEOBALD:  "Would  make  it  a  case  of  law  against 
Stratford  claims  and  is  sure  of  Shakspere  being  beaten." 

WM.  H.  FURNESS  (Father  of  the  Variorum  Editor):  "I  can- 
not bring  Wm.  Shaksper  and  the  plays  within  a  planetary 
distance  of  each  other." 

CHARLES  DICKENS:  "The  life  of  Shakespeare  is  a  fine 
mystery.  I  tremble  every  day  that  something  should 
turn  up." 

GEO.  JAMES:  "To  believe  that  Wm.  Shakespeare  (Stratford) 
wrote  these  (plays)  is  to  violate  every  principle  of  com- 
mon sense  and  be  blind  to  truths  plain  as  beacon  lights 
for  our  guidance." 

PROF.  F.  W.  NEWMAN:  "Are  the  devotees  of  Shakespeare 
determined  to  make  him  a  miracle?" 

JOHN  BRIGHT,  Statesman:  "Any  man  who  believes  that  Wm. 
Shaksper  of  Stratford  wrote  'Hamlet*  or  'Lear'  is  a  foolt" 

WALT  WHITMAN:  "I  am  firmly  convinced  that  Shaksper  of 
Stratford  could  not  have  been  the  author." 

WM.  THEOBALD:  "Shakspere's  name  suggests  a  pseudonym 
and  the  actor  would  be  very  willing  to  act  as  sponsor 
for  another  man's  plays." 


30 

JOSIAH  P.  QUINCY:  "Deplores  that  anti-Stratfordians  are 
not  answered  by  the  boomers  of  the  Stratford  deer- 
stealer."  (They  cannot  answer  without  falling  deeper 
and  deeper  into  their  error.) 

HENRY  LABOUCHERE:  "Believes  Shakspere  lathered  some 
one's  plays." 

FRANCES  E.  WILLARD:  "Does  not  think  that  the  Stratford 
man  wrote  the  plays." 

CARDINAL  NEWMAN:     "Is  he  much  more  than  a  name?" 

JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL:  "Nobody  believes  any  longer 
that  immediate  inspiration  is  possible  in  modern  times." 

A.  F.  GEFROERER,  late  Librarian  at  Stuttgardt,  Germany: 
"It  was  impossible  that  the  historical  Shaksper  should 
have  composed  the  Shake-Speareian  dramas." 

CHAMBERS  EDINBURGH  JOURNAL  (Mr.  Jameson):  "What 
was  to  hinder  Shaksper  *  *  *  from  keeping  a  poetf" 

JOHN  G.  WHITTIER,  Poet:  •>  "I  am  quite  sure  the  man 
Shakspere  (of  Stratford)  neither  did  or  could" — write  the 
plays. 

R.  W.  EMERSON:  "Shakespeare  is  a  voice  merely;  who  and 
what  he  was  we  know  not.  He  (the  Stratford  man) 
led  an  obscure  and  profane  life  *  *  *  I  cannot  marry 
this  fact  to  his  verse." 

W.  E.  GLADSTONE  (The  Shakespeare  Authorship  Question): 
"I  have  always  regarded  your  discussion  as  one  per- 
fectly serious  and  to  be  respected." 

A.  W.  VON  SCHLEGEL:  "The  life  of  the  man  Shakspere,  'a 
blind,  extravagant  error.'  " 

LORD   BYRON:      "What  is  really  his   *   *    *   what  is  not?" 

BENJ.  DISRAELI:  "Did  he  ever  write  a  single  or  whole  play? 
I  doubt  it." 


31 

DESCRIPTION    OF 

STRATFORD-ON-AVON 

Partially  Gleaned  front  EDWIN  REED'S  Account 

When  William  Shaxper  was  born  somewhere  in  or 
near  Stratford-on-Avon,  in  Warwickshire  (no  record 
shows  the  date  or  place)  the  town  of  Stratford 
1564  was  an  agglomeration  of  mud  houses  with 
thatched  roofs,  excepting  one  or  two  houses  used 
for  public  purposes,  which  were  built  of  stone  and  tim- 
ber. The  lanes,  (there  were  no  paved  streets)  were 
crude  paths,  almost  impassible  on  account  of  the  refuse, 
muck  and  houseslops  which  it  was  customary  to  de- 
posit before  the  houses  in  the  lane  or  road  and  allowed 
to  accumulate  there  until  the  statutory  limit  was  reached 
for  size  and  time  to  remove  some  of  it — never  all.  Es- 
pecially in  rainy  weather  was  it  almost  impossible  to 
use  these  so-called  streets,  and  the  records  show  that 
Shaxper's  father  allowed  his  particular  addition  to 
plague-enticing  muck  heaps  to  accumulate  until  com- 
pelled by  a  fine  imposed  by  the  "council"  to  remove  it. 
Upon  or  near  such  a  heap  of  filth  was  this  William 
reared  or  raised  and  "educated."  Around  another  such 
a  heap  was  most  of  the  courting  done  by  bashful  Anne 
Hathaway,  aged  twenty-six,  when  she  allowed  Willie 
age  eighteen,  to  steal  her  coy  heart. 

The  conditions  then  prevailing  in  Stratford  had  not 
materially  changed  when  the  renowned  actor  David 
Garrick  visited  this  now  well  known  pantheon  of  De- 
ceit and  Fraud  in  1769.  Even  Shaxper's  acquisition  of 
New  Place  and  the  mythical  improvements  he  made 
upon  this  "mansion"  did  not  lift  it  or  Stratford  out  of 
its  habitual  mire  and  homespun  affection  for  dirt  and 
filth. 

The  fact  that  Henrietta  Maria,  Queen  of  Charles  I. 
made  her  headquarters  at  New  Place  while  Cromwell 
was  making  Charlie  dance  a  quickstep  in  the  middle 


32 

shires  speaks  but  little  in  favor  of  better  conditions  then 
prevailing,  as  above  described,  for  two  reasons:  first, 
because  there  were  no  means  or  incentive  for  improve- 
ment, second,  Henrietta  Maria  was  accustomed  to  just 
such  conditions — conditions  she  was  fated  to  enjoy  until 
her  death  in  France  owing  to  the  loving  neglect  of  her 
nephew,  the  Grand  Monarche.  It  was  about  the  middle 
of  the  eighteenth  century  that  Shake-Speare  idolaters, 
in  their  fanaticism  fell  upon  innocent  and  dirty  Strat- 
ford with  the  fixed  purpose  to  create  a  "birth-place" 
for  the  immortal  bard,  whom  in  their  blindness  they 
mixed  up  with  the  ex-butcher  boy  who  was  reared 
on  some  Henley  Street  Dunghill. 

The  commission  visited  three  different  "houses" 
neither  one  of  which  quite  suited  their  purpose.  A 
charitable  townsman  tore  down  one  of  these  three  mud 
huts,— which  reduced  the  Commission's  difficulty  by 
thirty-three  and  one-third  per  cent.  When  the  debate 
upon  the  authenticity  of  the  remaining  two  houses 
brought  out  the  fact  that  the  rear  window  of  one  of 
them  overlooked  a  cemetery  the  odds  were  as  high  as 
eight  to  two  in  its  favor,  owing  to  the  legend  that 
the  "bard  of  our  admiration"  got  his  "atmosphere"  for 
the  Gravedigger  scene  in  Hamlet,  by  quaffing  his  small 
beer  when  sitting  at  just  that  window  at  midnight,  when 
he  was  in  a  contemplative  mood.  But  when  the  backers 
and  barkers  for  the  Henley  Street  House  produced  an 
ancient  ballad  about  the  "devine  Poet"  especially  visit- 
ing Westminster  Church  yard  at  midnight  to  work  up 
enthusiasm  for  Ophelia's  funeral,  there  was  a  panic 
and  the  odds  changed  to  nine  to  one  in  favor  of 
Henley  Street  in  a  twinkling  and  the  house  with  the 
muck  heap  went  under  the  wire  with  flying  colors. 

The  house  was  now  "a  fact"  and  next  step  was  to 
select  the  room  in  which  the  immortal  bard  was  "born." 
As  "below  stairs"  was  a  butcher-shop  and  "above-stairs" 
was  the  attic,  the  question  of  deciding  upon  "the  very 
room  in  which  the  greatest  of  all  poets  was  born"  was 
soon  settled  when  the  most  logical  member  of  the  Com- 


33 

mission  clinched  his  argument  with  the  fact  that  the 
attic  was  at  least  seven  feet  nearer  heaven.  All  this 
happened  about  205  years  after  the  Stratford  actor 
drank  himself  to  death.  The  absence  of  records  was 
convenient  for  the  Commission  as  the  "fact"  which 
they  had  now  established  was  not  likely  to  suffer  as 
did  the  "New  Facts"  of  John  Paine  Collier's  manu- 
facture. This  notorious  forger,  first  "fabricated" 
"ancient"  Mss.  containing  Shakespeare  allusions  and 
then  carefully  "planted"  the  same  for  future  "acci- 
dental" discovery.  Collier  came  to  a  cropper  at  the 
"Ingleby  Hurdle." 

When  the  Auctioneer  knocked  down  the  "new  birth- 
place premises"  to  the  highest  bidder  on  September  16, 
1847,  he  closed  with  a  benediction  and  casting  his  eyes 
skyward  through  the  thatched  roof  over  the  attic,  cried 
with  a  quivering  voice  that  all  doubts  as  to  the  au- 
thenticity of  the  hallowed  spot  being  the  actual  birth- 
place of  the  immortal  bard  were,  to  say  the  least,  blas- 
phemous and  sacrilegious  (fact!). 

For  the  next  sixty-three  years  these  enthusiastic 
Stratfordian  fanatics  dug  and  delved  for  authentic 
mementoes — things  that  the  heavenly  poet  wore, 
touched,  lay  or  sat  at,  upon,  or  under — anything,  in  fact 
— even  if  it  wasn't  authentic — their  saying  so  was 
stronger  proof  than  any  possible  denial  or  refutation. 
Ever  since  the  great  Jubilee  in  1769,  curiosity  fakirs, 
had  been  hard  at  work  manufacturing  and  planting  "au- 
thentic mementoes"  for  future  discovery  and  sale  to  a 
happy  congregation  of  gullible  Stratfordian  fanatics. 

A  Mrs.  Hornby  started  the  ball  arolling  soon  after 
Garrick's  visit  to  Stratford  and  her  successors,  duly 
sworn  to  the  task  of  being  loyal  to  the  Fraud,  suc- 
ceeded in  collecting  quite  a  museum  of  "indisputable" 
relics  of  the  great  Bard.  Sometime  in  the  seventies 
of  the  past  century,  the  notorious  Yankee  showman,  P. 
T.  Barnum,  threatened  to  pack  all  this  junk  upon  a 
steamer  specially  chartered  for  the  purpose  and  trans- 
port the  entire  cargo,  house  and  all  to  the  land  of 


34 

promise  and  enterprise — America.  The  howl  that  then 
went  up  was  sublime,  as  Artemus  Ward  would  have  de- 
scribed it.  Not  until  the  Stratfordian  Commission  in 
turn,  threatened  to  put  up  another  birthplace,  birthroom, 
relics  and  all,  every  bit  as  authentic  as  the  one  now 
shown  to  pilgrims — more  so,  if  anything — did  Barnum 
give  up  his  praiseworthy  scheme,  fearing  that  a  con- 
tinued reduplication  of  authentic  birthplaces  and  relics 
of  the  great  bard  might  stale  his  bargain  and  lessen 
his  honorable  renown  for  humbuggery. 

Barnum  dealt  only  in  honest,  plain,  everyday,  hum- 
bug—the Stratford  swindle  had  only  lies  and  forgery 
to  support  it.  Barnum  knew  the  American  public  loved 
to  be  humbugged  by  a  good  joke;  but  that  they  would 
not  stand  for  a  downright  lie — "Why,"  he  is  reported  to 
have  said,  "I  can  get  up  a  better  birthplace  and  more 
authentic  relics  than  they  have  over  there  without  half 
trying,  and  my  public  would  never  call  me  a  liar;  but 
would  applaud  my  enterprise  and  superior  gall." 

Even  the  ablest  of  Stratfordian  manufacturers  of 
fraudulent  "Biographies  of  Shakespeare,"  Halliwell 
Phillipps,  says :  "Stratford-on-Avon  *  *  *  has  become 
the  seat  of  Shakespearean  Charlatanry."  Now,  when 
thieves  fall  out,  the  truth  is  likely  to  assert  itself. 

Not  to  forget  that  arch  prevaricator,  Solomon  La/arus 
Levy  (Sidney  Lee),  who  teaches  his  students  to  accept 
the  latest  "planted"  find  of  a  genuine  portrait  of  Shax- 
per — the  original  painting  from  which  Droeshout  made 
his  Folio  engraving.  This  "portrait"  has  been  proven  a 
"fraud"  but  Levy-Lee  still  holds  to  his  fraud. 

While  there  is  not  one  authentic  relic  of  actor  Shax- 
per  at  Stratford,  the  present  custodian  still  points  with 
pride  to  a  chair,  oak  chest,  carved  bedstead,  iron  deed 
box,  sword,  lantern,  card  and  dice  case,  a  table  cloth 
embroidered  by  Queen  Elizabeth,  Anne  Hathaway's 
shoes,  drinking  cup,  writing  table,  gold  ring  (this  ring 
was  found  near  the  church,  194  years  after  Shaxper's 
death  in  1616!). 

Mr.  R.  B.  Wheeler,  Historian  of  Stratford,  denounced 


35 

all  the  above  as  absolute  frauds  (Hist.  &  Descript.  Acct. 
Stratford,  1824).  Even  the  Album  which  a  gullible 
American  presented  to  the  Musuem  in  1812  was  at  once 
filled  with  names  of  renowned  men,  kings,  princes, 
noblemen,  etc.,  who  never  were  at  Stratford.  This 
fraudulent  book  sold  at  auction  on  June  4,  1896,  for 
£130,  i8/- !  when  the  Museum  was  immediately  supplied 
with  another  "authentic"  book,  also  a  school  desk  at 
which  Shaxper  "studied"  (cards  and  dice?).  See 
Washington  Irving's  Sketch  Book.  Richard  Grant 
White  was  disgusted,  and  Joseph  Skipsey,  late  cus- 
todian at  Stratford  Musuem  left  in  disgust  at  the  fraud 
his  employers  commanded  him  to  put  upon  an  inno- 
cent public.  Skipsey  died  in  1903  and  left  a  statement 
of  his  reason  for  leaving  his  position,  ending:  "the 
Museum  was  a  stench  in  his  nostrils." 

ANN  HATHAWAY  COTTAGE. 

Rowe  was  the  first  biographer  of  Shaxper  who  ever 
even  mentions  the  person  of  Ann  Hathaway — in  1709. 
The  Hathaway  Cottage  was  unknown  in  1760,  the  Jubi- 
lee year — Garrick  knew  it  not — but  Ireland,  Senior 
(father  of  the  great  forger,  Ireland)  had  it  pointed  out 
to  him  by  another  "relic"  manufacturer  named  Jordan 
in  1795  (213  years  after  Ann's  "courtship").  Even  Hal- 
liwell  Phillipps  denounces  this  fraud — cottage,  room, 
window,  bed,  chair  and  all — even  the  old  kinsman,  who 
showed  him  around. 

But  Ward's  Guide  Book  even  at  this  late  and  en- 
lightened day  swears  to  the  authenticity  of  all  these 
relics! 

As  late  as  1790  Chapel  Lane,  through  which  Shaxper 
walked  to  enter  New  Place,  was  the  filthiest  path  in  all 
Stratford  where  filth  was  the  order  of  the  day. 

Most  of  the  "relics"  cut  from  the  Mulberry  tree  which 
Shaxper  was  supposed  to  have  planted,  but  never  did — 
turned  out  to  be  made  of  "maple." 

Such  are  the  props  upon  which  the  Stratfordians 
hope  to  support  their  lies,  forgeries  and  misrepresenta- 


36 

tions  of  facts — which  "facts,"  if  properly  laid  before 
the  public  would  at  once  establish  the  truth  of  the  whole 
matter.  The  truth  is  that  Wiliam  Shaxper,  poacher, 
third  class  player,  drinker  and  usurer  never  could  read 
or  write  more  than  perhaps  some  disconnected  words, 
and  that  he  had  not  the  capacity  required  to  produce 
any  "plays"  whatever. 

Professor  Wallace,  University  of  Nebraska,  discov- 
ered another  signature  of  this  paltry  buffoon  (1910). 
The  Stratford  actor  had  signed  a  legal  statement— testi- 
mony— merely  as  "Willin  Shack" — the  more  such  evi- 
dence discovered  by  Professor  Wallace,  the  more  jubi- 
lant these  fanatic  Stratfordians  become — forgetting  that 
every  "find"  thus  far  made  by  Wallace  has  further 
proved  the  case  against  this  Shaxper  and  his  "author- 
ship of  'Shake-SpeareV  works." 

If  the  reader  is  interested  in  real  relics  of  Shake- 
Speare  let  him  go  to  Corpus  Christi  College,  Cambridge ; 
Wilton  House  near  Salisbury;  Bottesford  in  Leicester- 
shire and  Belvoir  near  Grantham — and  he  will  find  not 
only  authentic  portraits  for  which  the  great  author 
actually  posed,  but  letters,  books,  arms  and  sundry 
other  "relics"  which  he  personally  handled  and  de- 
scribed in  his  plays  between- 1576  and  1612. 


A  PROPHECY  FROM  "WINTER'S  TALE." 

"Ha,  ha!  what  a  fool  honesty  is!  and  trust  is  his  sworn  brother, 
a  very  simple  gentleman!  I  have  sold  all  my  trumpery;  not  a 
counterfeit  stone,  not  a  riband,  glass,  promander,  brooch,  table- 
book,  ballad,  knife,  tape,  glove,  shoe-tie,  bracelet,  horn-ring 
to  keep  my  pack  from  fasting;  they  throng  who  would  buy  first; 
as  if  my  trinkets  had  been  hallowed  and  brought  a  benediction 
to  the  buyer.  •  *  »  "  Antolycus. 

Here  Rutland  describes  the  character  of  his  dummy,  William 
Shaxper  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  selling  prompt-book  copies  of 
plays  to  pirate-publishers. 


37 


BELVOIR    CASTLE 

RUTLAND'S    BIRTHPLACE 

The  castle  that  stood  on  the  site  of  the  present 
majestic  pile,  and  in  which  Roger  Manners,  5th  Earl  of 
Rutland,  was  born  on  October  6th,  1576,  was  founded  by 
Robert  de  Todeni,  standard  bearer  to  William  I,  the 
Conquerer,  who  died  in  1088,  who  left  the  estate  much 
as  it  is  to  this  date.  The  castle  stood  upon  a  abrupt 
elevation  of  red  gritstone  covered  with  grass  and 
shrubbery  varied  into  terraces. 

Its  location  is  so  near  to  the  junction  of  Leicester- 
shire and  Lincolnshire,  that  part  of  the  estate  lay  in 
both  counties  in  Roger's  time. 

After  the  death  of  Todeni,  Belvoir  fell  to  the  Al- 
beneius — (Albany),  which  prompted  Rutland  to  give 
that  name  to  the  gentle  husband  of  Goneril,  the  wicked 
daughter  of  King  Lear.  The  Albanis  greatly  enlarged 
the  fortress  and  left  it  as  one  of  the  strongest  defences 
in  that  part  of  the  Kingdom.  Belvoir  was  granted 
to  Ranulph,  Earl  of  Chester,  by  King  Henry  II  who 
found  that  this  estate  had  been  taken  by  the  Crown  in 
the  reign  of  King  Stephen;  but  Albani  regained  posses- 
sion in  1155. 

William  de  Albani  III  accompanied  King  Richard  I, 
Coeur  de  Leon,  to  Palestine,  and  was  one  of  the  sig- 
natories at  Runnemede  when  King  John  was  forced 
to  sign  the  Magna  Charta.  This  Albani  died  in  1256  and 
his  statue  is  now  in  the  Church  at  Bottesford,  a  few 
miles  from  Belvoir. 

Isabel  de  Albani  married  Robert  de  Ros,  Baron  Ham- 
lake,  who  died  in  1285. 

Belvoir  was  in  the  possession  of  the  Ros  Family  from 
that  date.  William  Ros,  fourth  of  that  name,  died  in 
1431.  His  infant  son,  Edmund,  succeeded  and  later 
fought  in  the  Wars  of  the  Roses.  Edmund  was 
attainted  and  his  entire  estates  parcelled  out  by  King 
Edward  IV  in  1461.  Belvoir  falling  to  Hastings,  the 


notorious  Court  corruptionist.  Ros  fought  to  recover 
his  castle  and  Hastings  bringing  a  large  force,  de- 
troyed  it.  Ros,  however,  recovered  possession  of  the 
estate  in  1481,  and  did  much  to  repair  the  castle.  He 
died  in  1508,  leaving  all  his  estates  to  his  three  sisters. 
Belvoir  fell  to  Elinore,  the  eldest,  who  married  Sir  Rob- 
ert de  Manneris,  and  from  that  date,  the  estate  has 
remained  in  the  Manners  family  to  this  date.  George 
Manners,  son  of  Sir  Robert  succeeded.  He  had  married 
Anne  St.  Leger,  daughter  of  Anne,  sister  of  King 
Edward  IV  and  Richard  III. 

From  this  union  with  the  royal  house  of  York,  sprang 
Thomas,  Lord  Ross,  who  succeeded  and  was  created 
First  Earl  of  Rutland  by  King  Henry  VIII,  the  first 
man  to  be  so  distinguished  outside  of  the  Tudor  blood 
royal.  In  fact,  Lord  Thomas  was  as  much  of  the  blood 
royal  as  was  bluff  King  Hal. 

The  first  Earl  of  Rutland  now  restored  Belvoir,  and 
his  son,  Henry,  the  2nd  Earl  of  Rutland,  enlarged  and 
beautified  the  Castle  and  grounds. 

Lord  Henry  was,  in  1556,  appointed  Captain  General 
of  the  Forces  and  Commander  of  the  Fleet  by  Queen 
Mary  and  Spanish  Philip,  in  the  French  Campaign. 
Henry  had  a  younger  brother  named  John  Manners,  who 
eloped  with  the  beautiful  and  celebrated  Lady  Dorothy 
Vernon,  daughter  of  the  irascible  Sir  George,  "King 
of  the  Peak,"  master  of  Haddon  Hall.  This  Dorothy 
is  the  ancestress  of  the  present  Manners  Family  and  is 
celebrated  in  song  and  story.  Dorothy's  grandson,  John, 
however,  did  not  succeed  until  Henry's  own  sons  had 
succeeded  one  after  the  other.  Edward,  the  eldest, 
became  3rd  Earl  of  Rutland.  He  was  a  profound 
lawyer  and  writer,  and  he  held  his  title  until  1587, 
when  Belvoir  succeeded  to  John  Manners,  Esq.,  his 
younger  brother  who  was  born  in  1550. 

This  John  Manners  devoted  his  entire  life  to  literature 
and  to  him  the  world  owes  its  gratitude  for  launching 
his  son  Roger  into  the  position  of  first  place  in  the 
literature  of  the  world,  "Shake-Speare."  John  did  not 


39 

enjoy  his  title  as  4th  Earl  of  Rutland  for  many  days, 
for  he  died  on  February  21,  1588  in  the  38th  year  of 
his  age. 

The  history  of  Belvoir  under  Roger,  5th  Earl  of 
Rutland  is  given  in  detail  in  the  life  of  this  greatest  of 
all  men  of  genius,  which  will  appear  at  an  early  date. 
When  Roger  died  suddenly  in  1612,  his  brother  Fran- 
cis, succeeded  as  6th  Earl.  He  had  an  only  daughter, 
Catherine,  who  married  the  notorious  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham, who  was  stabbed  by  Felton  at  Portsmouth. 
Francis  had  also  two  sons;  but  they  both  died  in 
infancy — "by  practice  and  sorcery,"  as  Lord  Francis 
maintained.  Upon  the  death  of  Francis  in  1632,  his 
younger  brother,  George,  succeeded.  He  dying  child- 
less, his  coutin,  John  Manners,  the  grandson  of  beauti- 
ful Dorothy  Vernon,  succeeded  and  from  this  John, 
the  8th  Earl  of  Rutland,  the  present  family  of  Man- 
ners, Dukes  of  Rutland,  are  descended  in  male  line 
unbroken  to  the  family  of  the  present  occupants  of 
Belvoir. 

John,  the  8th  Earl  of  Rutland,  joined  the  parliamen- 
tarians and  in  1642  Belvoir  was  attacked  by  Sir  Ger- 
vase  Lucas. 

On  August  5,  1645,  King  Charles  I  slept  at  the  Castle, 
and  in  1648,  Lord  John  regained  full  possession  of 
Belvoir.  In  1649,  Parliament  ordered  the  Castle  de- 
molished; but  indemnified  Lord  John  in  the  sum  of 
£1,500  ($60,000  of  our  money  at  the  present  time)  as 
compensation,  and  Lord  John  resided  at  Haddon  Hall 
until  1663,  when  he  rebuilt  Belvoir,  adding  many  gar- 
dens. A  model  of  this  building  made  of  wood,  is  at 
present  in  the  Castle. 

In  1801,  the  5th  Duke  of  Rutland  erected  another 
castle;  but  fire  consumed  the  northeast  and  north- 
west fronts  in  1816,  and  in  the  following  year,  Belvoir 
was  rebuilt  and  completed  in  the  majestic  splendor  in 
which  we  now  behold  it. 

Passing  through  the  Guard  Room  and  up  to  the  Earls 


40 

Gallery  on  the  Main  Story  one  sees  the  portraits  of 
the  eight  Earls  and  that  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham. 
But,  in  the  gorgeous  Elizabeth  Saloon,  at  either  end 
stand  the  full  length,  life-size  portraits  of  Roger,  5th 
Earl  of  Rutland  and  that  of  his  Countess,  the 
"Daughter  of  Sidney,"  enclosed  in  a  heavy  frame  swung 
in  a  hinged  easel.  The  particular  "Rutland"  who  caused 
these  two  portraits  to  be  placed  there  conspicuously — 
alone — knew  it  was  the  portrait  of  "Shake-Speare"  and 
his  "Muse." 


A  LETTER  WRITTEN  BY  "SHAKE-SPEARE" 

"1601,   May   16.     At   the   Tower 

The  greatness  of  my  misfortunes  have  made  me  more  silent 
than  I  would  have  been,  because  I  should  be  sorry  to,  add  my 
grief  to  my  friends  in  the  remembrance  of  my  mishaps  *  *  * 
that  I  should  live  to  give  cause  of  discomfort  to  my  best  friends 
and  hazard  a  stain  upon  my  house  *  *  *  my  estate  is  like  to 
be  much  meaner  than  it  was,  which,  I  thank  God,  I  greatly 
esteem  not.  *  *  [To]  my  doom,  which  was  Thirty  thousand 
pounds,  I  humbly  submit  myself.  *  *  *  " 

Thus  wrote  Roger  Manners,  5th  Earl  of  Rutland,  to  his  uncle 
at  Haddon  Hall,  after  three  months'  incarceration  in  the  Tower. 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY. 


WILLIAM  HERBERT, 
Earl  of  Penbroke. 


PHILIP  HERBERT, 
Earl  of  'Montgomery. 


WILTON  HOUSE. 
Pembroke's  seat. 


41 

BOTTESFORD 
(RUTLAND'S  TOMB) 

The  little  village  of  Bottesford  lies  on  the  romantic 
river  Deven,  in  the  beautiful  Vale  of  Belvoir,  about 
four  miles  north  of  Belvoir  Castle,  close  to  the  junc- 
tion of  Leicestershire,  Lincoln  and  Notts.  The  actual 
point  is  called  "Three  Shire  Bush."  The  ancient 
Church  is  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  but 
was  founded  much  earlier,  antiquarians  say  two  cen- 
turies or  more,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  II.,  1154-1189^— 
A  crocketed  spire  surmounts  it  to  a  height  of  about  220 
feet.  The  octagonal  pillars  of  the  isle ;  heraldic  shields, 
rich  and  curious  carvings  are  very  impressive. 

In  this  church  are  the  tombs  of  most  of  the  ancestors 
of  the  Rutland  family.  The  small  statue  of  marble  on 
the  north  wall  was  long  regarded  as  that  of  the  founder 
of  Belvoir,  Robert  de  Todeni,  but  in  the  latter  years 
antiquarians  have  decided  that  this  marble  figure  rep- 
resents the  chivalrous  crusader,  William  de  Albani  III. 
who  died  in  1236. 

There  are  the  tombs  of  the  de  Ros  Family  with  re- 
cumbent figures  cut  in  marble,  north  of  the  altar. 

The  tomb  of  Thomas,  the  First  Earl  and  his  countess, 
entirely  of  alabaster,  is  in  the  chancel.  His  son  and 
successor,  Henry,  is  effigied,  fully  armoured,  kneeling 
before  an  open  book.  Henry's  tomb  stands  near  with 
effigies  of  himself,  wife  and  children.  It  is  dated  1563, 

Edward,  the  3rd  Earl,  rests  in  a  tomb  in  the  Italian 
style  to  the  south  of  the  chancel.  The  recumbent 
figures  beneath  the  arcades  on  the  north  wall  are  the 
effigies  of  that  John  Manners,  who  made  "Shake-Speare" 
possible,  and  his  countess,  the  mother  of  the  master 
mind  of  all  ages  past  and  present,  Roger  Manners,  5th 
Earl  of  Rutland,  whose  modest  tomb  containing  his 
remains  and  that  of  his  countess,  "the  daughter  of 
Sidney,"  stands  near. 


42 

Now,  "look  upon  this  picture  and  on  this:"  First, 
the  quiet  grandeur  of  the  tomb  of  the  man  who  under 
the  nom  de  plume  "Shake- Speare"  has  instructed,  en- 
lightened and  entertained  the  intellectual  world  for  up- 
wards of  three  centuries,  then  turn  and  behold  the 
nauseatingly  gorgeous  conglomeration  of  outraged  mar- 
ble erected  by  that  brother  whom  "Prospero"  describes 
to  "Miranda,"  that  bigotted,  weak  but  cruel  Francis,  the 
6th  earl,  who  came  into  the  title  somewhat  earlier,  by 
directly  or  indirectly  hastening  the  death  of  his  brother, 
Roger  and  his  beautiful  countess,  daughter  of  the  Na- 
tional poet  and  hero,  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 

This  heap  of  marbled  infamy  is  built  into  the  south- 
east wall.  There  lies  his  marble  effigy  and  that  of  his 
two  wives,  and  those  of  his  two  baby  boys  who,  he 
claimed  were  put  to  death  by  sorcery,  and  for  which 
supposed  crime,  this  miserable  fanatic  had  two  innocent 
women  burnt  at  the  stake,  and  published  a  pamphlet  at 
the  time  recounting  the  crime  of  these  poor,  friendless 
women,  and  the  horror  of  these  executions ! 

This  was  not  enough  for  this  weakminded  papist  fan- 
atic— no!  He  actually  caused  a  large  tablet  to  be 
erected  recounting  every  detail  of  his  ignorance,  cruelty 
and  scoundrelism  in  bold  letters. 

Was  it  a  wonder  "Prospero"  released  his  Ariel  so 
suddenly  ? 

It  was  not  necessary  for  Francis  to  stick  a  knife  into 
his  brother — no!  to  a  mind  as  sensitive  as  that  of  the 
author  of  Hamlet  and  Lear,  the  greedy  impatience  that 
bulged  from  the  hungry  eyes  of  his  brother  Francis, 
could  accomplish  the  purpose  of  this  fratricide. 

No  wonder  his  family  could  not  understand  his  words 
when  he  was  dying  in  a  tavern  at  Bishop-Si*>lford  on 
December  17,  1632!  Was  the  spirit  of  his  brother  hover- 
ing over  his  bed?  Had  "Prspero"  sent  his  "Ariel"  to 
witness  the  last  hour  of  cruel  Francis,  and  report?  Was 
the  dying  man's  message,  that  none  standing  by 
could  understand,  addressed  to  "Ariel"  ?  Perhaps  !  The 
words  Francis  spoke  were  written  down;  but  the  cus- 


43 

todians  of  this  telltale  piece  of  paper  prefer  to  with- 
hold it    Why? 

The  modest  tomb  of  Roger,  5th  Earl  of  Rutland  is 
however  overshadowed  by  one  far  more  impressive — in 
the  village  where  stand  the  school  and  hospital  endowed 
by  the  author  of  Hamlet  and  Lear,  both  in  useful  activ- 
ity to  this  day — and  oh,  the  irony  of  fate,  in  the  school 
erected  by  "Shake-Speare";  the  children  are  to  this  day 
taught  to  honor  and  love  the  pot-house  "Swan"  of 
Stratford,  the  hero  of  "the  second  best  bed  and  its 
furniture"!  But  calmly  lie  the  remains  of  Rutland- 
Shakes- Spear  e  within  the  tomb,  seeing  all,  but — "the 
rest  is  silence." 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  M.  W.   SHAKESPEARE 

"We   wonder'd    (Shakespeare)    that  thou   went'st   so   soon 
From  the  world's  stage  to  the  grave's  tiring  room. 
We  thought  thee  dead,  but  this  thy  printed  worth 
Tells  thy  spectators  that  thou  went'st  but  forth 
To  enter  with  applause."  *  *  *  I.  M. 


The  Earl  of  Montgomery  thus  apostrophised  his  cousin  Roger, 
5th  Earl  of  Rutland,  and  had  the  lines  printed  in  the  Folio  of 
1623,  which  was  dedicated  to  his  brother,  the  Earl  of  Pembroke 
and  himself. 


Note  Montgomery's  "wondered"  and   "went's"  and  "so  soon' 
as  well  as  putting  Rutland's  nom  de  plume  in  parenthesis. 


44 

RANDOM   NOTES. 

Many  "Shake-Speare"  admirers  say:  "We  have  the  works; 
what  difference  does  it  make  who  wrote  them?" 

Let  Sir  Francis  Bacon  make  reply:  "The  inquiry  of  truth, 
which  is  the  lovemaking  or  wooing  of  it;  the  knowledge  of 
truth,  which  is  the  presence  of  it;  the  belief  of  truth,  which  is 
the  enjoying  of  it — is  the  sovereign  good  of  human  nature," 


Schlegel  says:  "A  meteor  appears,  disappears  and  leaves  no 
trace  behind.  *  *  *  Astronomers  will  never  rest  *  *  * 
for  the  sake  of  investigating." 


Edmond  Malone,  the  great  Shakespeareian  commentator,  says: 
"There  must  have  been  another  author  preceding  (Shaxper  of 
Stratford)  to  account  for  the  earlier  plays,  i.  e.,  "Henry  VI.," 
"John,"  etc."  There  was,  and  his  name  was  John  Manners,  the 
father  of  Roger,  5th  Earl  of  Rutland. 


William  Hazlitt,  essayist,  expressed  the  wish  that  he  could 
convince  himself  that  Shaxper  of  Stratford  had  been  approached 
by  some  young  nobleman  who  wished  to  see  his  plays  per- 
formed without  the  necessity  of  revealing  the  fact  that  he  was 
a  dramatist. 

Hazlitt  was  on  the  right  track;  had  he  known  of  Rutland  his 
wish  would  have  been  gratified. 


Dr.  Jameson,  in  the  Edinburgh  Review,  says  Shaxper  "kept  a 
poet." 

Dr.  Jameson  was  right;  the  Stratford  man  did  "keep  a  poet," 
and  was  well  paid  for  keeping  him  out  of  the  limelight  of 
publicity.  The  poet  thus  "kept"  was  Rutland. 


Professor  Halpin,  of  Dublin  University,  says  that  he  has 
"proof"  that  "Shake-Speare"  had  attended  several  universities. 
Dr.  Halpin  knew  that  Rutland  was  a  Cambridge  and  Oxford 
M.  A.,  a  Padua  University  man  and  a  Gray's  Inn  member. 


The  Hon.  John  Bright  is  on  record  as  saying  that  any  one 
•who  believed  Shaxper  of  Stratford  to  be  the  author  of  "Shake- 
Speare's  Works,"  was  a  fool.  Mr.  Bright  might  have  added 
that  some  Stratfordian  biographers  were  criminally  active  to 
establish  the  dun  "Swan"  of  Stratford  as  the  author  of  these 
incomparable  works,  resorting  to  forgery,  mutilation  of  records, 
"planting"  spurious  documents  among  ancient  tnss.  archives, 
and  lying,  as  has  been  proved  against  one  Samuel  Ireland,  Wil- 
liam Davenant,  J.  P.  Collier  and  the  late  Halliwell  Phillips. 
— 'Mr.  Sidney  Lee's  career  is  not  yet  closed  and  one  must  wait 
until  his  ears  grow  still  longer  than  they  are,  before  we  nail 
them  to  the  pillory  of  public  opinion  for  wilfully  leading  his 
fellowmen  into  error. 


45 

In  Belvoir  Castle  now  stands  a  full  length  portrait  of  the 
Earl  of  Southampton  and  also  of  his  wife  Elizabeth  (Vernon), 
both  painted  by  Cornelius  Jansen.  These  paintings  are  near 
the  entrance  to  the  Regents  Gallery. 

In  the  Belvoir  Library  is  a  Moor's  Head  Ornament,  "Othello" 
with  Turban  (dated  1510). 

The  library  contains  many  of  the  old  books  Rutland  used  in 
his  work,  and  there  is  one  volume  of  miscellaneous  letters  from 
1564  to  1661. 


Carl  Elze,  in  his  lecture  on  the  "Merchant  of  Venice,"  speaks 
of  the  importance  of  the  lines  where  Shylock  is  sentenced  to 
turn  Christian  and  be  baptized,  a  most  horrible  fate  to  any 
man  of  deep  religious  convictions,  whatever  they  are.  Neither 
a  devout  Catholic  or  Protestant  would  have  penned  these  lines. 
This  is  another  proof  of  Rutland's  perfectly  free  stand  in  the 
matter  of  religion.  His  soul  was  too  great,  his  vision  too  clear, 
and  his  thoughts  too  advanced  to  be  tied  to  any  sect  or  creed. 
The  God  of  the  Universe  was  good  enough  for  him! 


Sir  William  Davenant,  who  claimed  Shaxper  as  father,  re- 
gardless  of  his  mother's  reputation,  in  later  life  had  his  nose 
cut  off  by  the  angry  spouse  of  a  negro  woman  with  whom 
Davenant  was  too  intimate.  This  Davenant  was  the  only 
source  from  which  Shaxperites  got  the  idea  that  Southampton 
had  given  Shaxper  £1,000,  and  all  that  Davenant  ever  said 
was  that  he  "thought"  so.  The  same  importance  was  given  to 
Davenant's  "thought"  that  King  James  had  "once"  written  a 
letter — by  his  own  hand — to  Shaxper.  Of  course,  the  letter  was 
lost! 


Leonard  Digges,  who  wrote  the  lines  in  the  1623  Folio, 
about  the  dissolution  of  the  Stratford  Monument,  was,  at  the 
time  a  "town  wit"  who  frequented  Paul's  Walk  in  hopes  of 
picking  up  scraps  or  meeting  opportunities  of  turning  his  wits 
into  cash  by  any  means  then  prevalent. 

When   Ben  Jonson   got   Digges  to   write   some  lines  eulogistic 
to  be  printed  in  the  First  Folio,  the  town  wit  wrote  something 
quite  different  from  the  twenty-two  lines  now  appearing  there. 
These    lines    Jonson    wrote    himself    and    held    back    the    trash 
Digges  brought   him.     This  is   what  Leonard   Digges   did  write: 
"Next   nature   only   helped   him,    for   look   thorow, 
This  whole  book,  thou  shalt  find  he  doth  not  borrow 
One    phrase    from    Greeks    nor    Latines    immitate; 
Nor  once  from  vulgar   languages  translate, 
Nor   plaguery-like  from  others  glean, 
Nor,  begs  he  from  each  witty  friend  a  scene; 
To  piece  his  acts  with,  all  that  he  doth  write 
Is  pure  his  own,  plot,  language  exquisite." 


46 

Now  we  all  know  what  ridiculous  nonsense  Digges  wrote  here 
and  why  Jonson  refused  to  put  such  monstrous  lies  in  the 
Folio,  and  the  whole  thing  throws  considerable  light  upon  the 
hocus-pocus  tactics  pursued  in  the  manufacture  of  the  First 
Folio,  which  Pembroke  and  Montgomery,  as  executors  of  their 
cousin  Rutland's  literary  remains  felt  necessary  in  order  to 
preserve  the  great  author's  pseudonymity. 


The    Sixth    Stanza   of   the    Passionate    Pilgrim,   line    5: 
"Dowland    to    thee    is    dear     *     *     *     " 

John  Dowland,  1536-1626,  was  a  great  "lutenist"  and  com- 
poser, and  was  at  Cambridge  in  1595  where  Rutland  received 
instructions  from  him  in  music — lute  and  virginal.  Dowland 
was  "Lutist"  to  King  Christian  IV.  of  Denmark  from  1600  to 
1604  and  was  intimate  with  Rutland  when  he  was  in  Denmark 
in  1603  as  Embassador  for  King  James  I. 

Sir  Robt.  Sidney  stood  godfather  for  John  Dowland's  son, 
Robert,  1583-1641,  and  Robert  dedicated  his  "Musical  Banquet" 
to  Sir  Robert  Sidney. 

While  many  believe  that  Richard  Barnfield  wrote  this  sixth 
stanza  and  have  included  it  in  Barnfield's  works,  the  facts 
above  related  showing  Rutland's  intimacy  with  Dowland  point 
strongly  to  Rutland  as  the  author.  It  makes  very  little  differ- 
ence either  way,  but  it  establishes  Rutland's  knowledge  of 
Dowland  and  music,  which  latter  qualification  the  Stratford  boor 
has  never  been  accused  of  possessing. 


Francis  Meres,  1565-1647,  M.  A.  Cambridge,  1591,  published 
his  "Wits  Treasury,"  in  which  he  mentions  several  of  "Shake- 
Speared"  works  in  1598,  was  a  fellow  student  of  Rutland  at 
Cambridge  during  1588  when  Rutland  entered  Queen's  Col- 
lege until  1591  when  Meres  obtained  his  M.  A.  While  he 
knew  Rutland  personally,  he  did  not  necessarily  know  that  he 
was  writing  under  the  nom  de  plume  of  "Shake-Speare" ; 
but  as  Meres  was  a  brother-in-law  of  Resolute  John  Florio, 
jrho  was  Lord  Southampton's  secretary,  we  know  where  Meres 
,saw  the  "sugared  sonnets  among  private  friends"  alluded 
to  in  the  "Wits  Treasury." 

Florio  had  dedicated  his  English-Italian  Dictionary  to  Rut- 
land and  Southampton. 


Philip  Henslow's  Diary  ran  from  1591  to  1609,  and  never  once 
mentions  William  Shaxper's  name.  As  these  dates  cover  prac- 
tically all  of  William  Shaxper's  activities  in  London,  this 
omission  is  proof  that  the  Stratford  man  was  dummy  for  some 
moneyed  man,  and  required  no  broker  or  manager  to  buy 
his  plays.  But  Shaxper  came  to  London  poor  and  left  it  rich, 
and  Henslow  was  the  only  man  at  that  time  to  pay  poets  and 
dramatists  money  for  their  work! 


47 

In  the  Church  at  Bakewell,  two  miles  from  Haddon  Hall 
in  Derbyshire,  there  is  the  tomb  of  Roger  Manners,  a  grandson 
of  John  Manners  and  Dorothy  Vernon,  and  a  cousin  of  Roger, 
6th  Earl  of  Rutland.  He  died  in  1650. 

Upon    this    tombstone    is    an    inscription,    which    reads: 
"By  the  Grace  of  God 

I    AM    THAT    I    AM." 

In  Sonnet  No.  121  written  by  Rutland-Shake-Speare  in 
the  Tower  of  London  between  1601  and  1603  will  be  found 
this  line  quoted,  i.e.: 

"l    AM    THAT    I    AM." 


In  the  middle  room  of  the  Beauchamp  Tower,  on  the  western 
wall  of  the  Tower  of  London,  and  on  the  right  of  the  window 
jamb,  there  is  an  inscription  in  Italian, 

"O   MISEB  HUOM   CHE  PENSI   OD  ESSER" 
"O,     UNHAPPY     MAN     THAT    I     THINK     MYSELF    TO    BE." 

As  the  thought  here  expressed  runs  through  many  of  Rut- 
land's Sonnets,  and  as  he  occupied  this  room,  it  is  immaterial 
to  us  whether  Rutland  found  the  inscription  there  and  that 
it  thus  influenced  his  muse,  or  that  he  cut  those  very  words 
in  the  gray  stones,  himself. 

Whichever  way  we  look  at  this  piece  of  evidence,  strengthened 
by  the  fact  that  Rutland  was  an  Italian  scholar,  this  link  con- 
nects him  with  the  Sonnets.  The  records  fail  to  show  any 
Italian  State  prisoner  in  the  Beauchamp  Tower  from  beginning 
to  date,  although  these  records  are  very  complete.  Read 
Rutland's  Sonnets:  Nos.  25-28-29-30-34-37-43-50-66-98 — these  all 
breathe  the  spirit  of  that  Italian  inscription — "I'm  not  so  badly 
off— after  allj' 


Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  says:  (Biographia  Literaria,  1817, 
Vol.  II.,  p.  15)  referring  to  Venus  and  Adonis: 

"It  is  throughout  as  if  a  superior  spirit,  more  intuitive,  more 
intimately  conscious,  even  than  the  characters  themselves  * 

*  *  were  placing  the  whole  before  our  view,  himself, 
meanwhile  unparticipating  in  the  passions  *  *  *  Even  then 
the  great  instinct  which  impelled  the  poet  to  the  drama  was 
secretly  working  in  him.  *  *  *  The  utter  aloofness  of  the 
poet's  own  feelings  from  those  of  which  be  is  at  once  the 
painter  and  analyst." 

Coleridge  also  refers  to  Richard  Ayton's  Essays  and  Sketches 
of  Character — a  paper  on  hare  hunting,  in  which  Ayton 
graphically  describes  the  movements  of  a  hare  running  from 
a  pursuing  pack  of  hounds  and  Coleridge  points  out  the  per- 
fect analogy  of  Ayton's  description  to  Shake-Speares. 

Note:  Rutland  was  physically  impotent — having  been  born 
with  a  physical  defect  in  his  genital  organs.  That  would 
testify  to  the  correctness  of  Coleridge's  remarks  upon  the 


48 

poet's  personal  aloofness. 

The  Stratford  man  would  know  little  or  nothing  about  a 
hare  hunt,  with  dogs  especially,  as  a  poacher  must  be  secret — and 
snare  or  trap  his  game  quietly  at  night. 

The  young  Earl  of  Rutland  did  in  his  boyhood  days  often 
follow  the  hounds  on  hare  and  fox  hunts — hence  his  correct 
description  "We  regard  the  'Venus  and  Adonis"  as  the  pro- 
duction of  a  very  young  man.'  Rutland  was  going  on  eighteen 
years  of  age  when  he  wrote  it  (1593).  The  Stratford  man 
was  29-30 — without  any  record  of  participation  in  hunts  or 
classical  learning,  both  of  which  came  natural  to  Rutland  who 
had  his  Ovid  by  heart  at  16  and  often  followed  the  hounds 
before  he  wrote  Venus  and  Adonis — the  "first  heir  of  his 
invention."  (Other  examples  of  youthful  poets,  Byron,  Chat- 
terton;  writers,  De  Quincey.) 

LOVE'S  LABORS  LOST:  The  "finished  representation  of  colloquial 
excellence"  in  the  beginning  of  the  Fifth  Act  is  an  imitation  of 
a  passage  in  Sidney's  "Arcadia,"  first  printed  in  1590. — 

Note:  Rutland  had  all  Sidney's  Mss.  while  the  Stratford  man 
was  holding  horses.  Coleridge  speaks  of  this  as  a  juvenile 
comedy.  (Rutland  was  22  in  1598  and  the  Stratford  man 
was  34!)  "The  characters  impersonated  out  of  such  people 
as  a  schoolboy's  observation  might  supply." 

Rutland  was  brought  up  amongst  such  characters  as  the 
noblemen  and  ladies  described  in  the  Comedy  and  had  many 
opportunities  to  meet  the  meaner  sort.  Shaxper  of  Stratford 
never  knew  "high  life"  and  the  vocabulary  used  in  court 
circles.  Coleridge  says,  "written  by  one  conversant  with  the 
Courts  of  Love,"  met  with  in  the  circles  Rutland  moved  in — 
whereas  the  low  actor  from  Stratford  lived  in  the  stews  in  the 
Liberty  of  the  Clink! 

Say  thus:  "Coleridge:  'The  happy  employment  of  Ancient 
Mythology'  applies  to  the  young  classical  student  Rutland — 
and  not  to  the  ignorant  Stratford  actor." 


George  Chapman,  who  was  "Shake-Speare's"  chief  contem- 
porary speaks  thus  of  the  Stratford  man  whom  he  thought  to  be 
a  dummy  for  some  nobleman: 

"Wealth  fawns  on  fools;  virtues  are  meat  for  vices; 
Good  gifts  are  often  given  to  men  past  good 
And  noblesse  stoops  sometimes  beneath  his  blood." 


In  his  preface  to  the  translation  of  the  Iliad,  Chapman  calls 
Shaxper  a  "windsucker"  and  a  "kestrel"  (a  falcon  kite)  re- 
ferring to  the  fradulent  Coat  of  Arms  Shaxper  was  using 
upon  which  appears  a  Falcon  holding  a  spear. 


Between  the  years  1597  and   1601   appeared  three  anonymous 
comedies    which    were    acted    by    the    students    of    St.    John's 


49 

College,  Cambridge.  The  first  was  "Pilgrimage  to  Par- 
nassus"; the  second,  "Return  from  Parnassus,"  in  two  parts 
and  the  third,  "The  Scourge  of  Simony."  The  first  was  acted 
in  December,  1597;  the  second  in  December,  1601  and  again  in 
1602  in  January.  These  Comedies  were  printed  in  1606  and  from 
the  inner  evidence  of  allusions  in  the  "Return  from  Parnassus" 
it  is  plain  that  this  comedy  was  written  by  a  collegian  whe- 
at least  believed  in  Shaksper's  dummyship  and  perhaps  knew 
more  than  we  think  about  their  collegians',  Rutland's  and 
Southampton's  connection  with  the  "Shake-Speareian  plays  ani 
especially  the  poems  "Venus  and  Adonis"  and  the  "Rape  of 
Lucrece." 


The  "Return  from  Parnassus"  was  again  acted  on  November 
2,  1602.  Note  this  passage: 

"Why,  is't  not  strange  to  see  a  ragged  clerk, 
Some   Stamel  weaver,  or  some  butcher's  son 
That    scrubbed    o'late    within    a   sleeveless   gown; 
When   the   Commencement   like   a  Morris   dance, 
Hath  put  a  bell  or  two  about  his  legs, 
Created  him  a  sweet  clean  gentleman. 
How   then   he   'gins   to   follow    fashions, 
He,   whose  thin  Sire  dwells  in  a  smoky  roof 
Must  take  tobacco  and  must  wear  a   lock. 
His   thirsty  dad   drinks  in   a  wooden   bowl 
But  his  sweet  self  is  served  in  silver  plate 
His  hungry  Sire  will  scrape  you  twenty  legs 
•*•»** 

Else  with  his  tongue  he'll  thunderbolt  the  world 
And    shake    each    peasant    by    his    deafman's    ear." 

•         »•»** 

While  Rutland  could  hardly  be  accused  of  thus  turning  on 
his  dummy  Shaxper,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  his  fellow 
collegian  and  friend  Southampton,  who  knew  the  facts,  either 
gave  the  author  of  the  "Parnassus"  comedies  a  hint  or  that 
he  wrote  these  lines  himself. 


Commentators  refer  with  pride  to  the  Shaxper  allusions  in 
the  play  "Return  from  Parnassus"  and  are  blind  to  the  fact 
that  they  ridicule  the  actor  "Shaxper"  and  poke  fun  at  their 
late  fellow  collegian  Rutland — (+  *  ).  In  this  play  one  actor 
says: 

"How  is  it  possible  that  such  monkeys  of  the  stage  dare 
patronize  men  of  learning  (Venus  and  Adonis  and  Lucrece). 
Miserable  world  that  honors  such  clowns  and  demeans  real 
poets.  Clods  that  recently  arrived  with  a  bundle  on  their 
shoulders,  now  ride  horseback,  in  silk  and  velvet  accompanied 
by  a  page.  With  verses  born  in  other  brains,  they  buy  estate* 
and  Coats  of  Arms." 


50 

""With    mouthing    words   that    better    wits    have   framed 
They   purchase   lands,    and   now   esquires   are   made." 


In  another  play,  called  Ratsie's  Ghost  (1601),  a  character  says: 
"When    thou    feelest    thy    purse    well    lined,    buy    thee    some 
place     of    lordship    in    the    Country,     that,     growing    weary     of 
playing,   thy   money   may  there   bring  thee   to   high   dignity  and 
reputation     *  *     for    I    have    heard,    indeed,    of    some    that 

hare  gone  to   London  very  meanly,   and  have  come  in   time  to 
be   exceeding  wealthy." 


When  the  pirate-publishers  were  beating  the  bush  in  their 
endeavor  to  drive  "poor  Wat,"  the  mysterious  author,  from  his 
burrow,  they  stated  on  the  title  page  of  the  original  Hamlet  of 
1608,  that  it  was  printed  for  a  Mr.  J.  Trundell.  As  there  was 
no  contemporary  publisher  by  that  name  we  are  justified  in 
presuming  that  "Trundell"  is  an  anagram  of  "Rutland."  They 
merely  disguised  the  last  syllable  "dal"  by  making  it  read 
"ell";  but  they  got  the  initial  "J."  correct,  i.  e.  John  Manners, 
Fourth  Earl  of  Rutland. 

In  the  following  year,  they  tried  the  same  game;  but  only 
on  part  of  the  edition  of  1604,  did  they  print  upon  the  title 
page  of  the  new  "Hamlet,"  printed  for  Mr.  N.  Landure," 
which  in  the  absence  of  any  contemporary  of  that  unique 
name  can  safely  be  accepted  as  an  anagram,  of  "Rutland," 
again,  however,  masking  the  final  syllable  "dure"  by  ending  it 
with  an  "e"  instead  of  a  "t." 

Other  copies  of  this  edition  were  printed  for  N.  L.  Nathaniel 
Ling,  one  of  the  pirate  publishers.  We  do  not  put  any  faith 
whatever  in  acrostics  or  anagrams  as  evidence  to  establish 
Rutland's  authorship,  feeling  that  his  genius  was  altogether 
too  great  to  stoop  to  such  a  subterfuge  to  secretly  immortalize 
his  name.  Rutland  had  much  better  methods  for  leaving  hts 
private  indelible  marks  on  all  he  wrote — as  for  instance,  the 
Correggio  painting  of  Jupiter  and  lo,  in  his  Taming  of  the 
Shrew  induction;  his  "July  6th,  your  loving  friend,  Benedick" 
in  "Much  Ado";  the  "16  months'  sojourn  in  Italy,"  in  "Two 
Gentlemen  of  Verona,"  his  "Gobbo"  in  "Merchant  of  Venice"; 
his  "murder  of  Gonzaga"  and  "Bonny  Sweet  Robin"  in  "Ham- 
let" and  in  the  paraphrases  throughout  his  dramas  of  the 
famous  letter  Essex  wrote  him  on  going  to  travel  in  foreign 
parts,  a  letter  that  Shaxper  of  Stratford  could  not  get  hold  of,  or 
succeeding  in  this,  could  not  even  read,  or  understand  if  read  to 
ceeding  in  -this,  could  not  even  read,  or  understand  if  read  to 
him.  The  above  instances  are  ;only  a  few  of  the  private 
marks  Rutland  stamped  upon  his  writings;  marks  that  it  was 
impossible  to  forge  by  any  one,  and  especially  not  by  his  dummy, 
the  dun  Swan  of  Stratford— the  Falstaff— the  Bottom—the 
Aguecheck  and  the  low  down  wretches  conforming  to  Shaxper's 
character  throughout  Rutland's  plays. 


51 

Taming  of  the   Shrew.      In   the  induction,   Scene  1,   read: 
"1st  Player:  I  think  'twas  Soto  that  your  honor  means." 

In  the  1623  Folio,  instead  of  "1st  player"  we  find  "Sinclo," 
the  name  of  the  actor  playing  that  part  which  proves  that  this 
comedy  was  also  printed  in  the  Folio  from  a  prompt  book — 
and  disproves  Heminge  and  Condell's  assertion  that  the  Folio 
was  printed  from  original  Mss. 


Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  Act  III,   Scene  3,  Enter  Falstaff. 
Falstaff:     "Have    I    caught   thee,    my    Heavenly    Jewel?" 
This  is  the  first  line  of  a  song  in  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  "Astro- 

phel  and   Stella*" — Rutland  had  all  of  Sidney's  Mss.,  he  being 

his  son-in-law. 


Measure    for    Measure:    Act    III,    Scene    1. 

Claudia:     "That  Prenzie,  Angelo?" 

Not  one  commentator  to  date  has  discovered  the  meaning 
of  the  word  "Prenzie,,  and  '"precice"  has  been  generally  adopted. 

The  word  Rutland  used  is  from  the  French  word  "preux." 
The  Folio  printers  merely  mistook  his  "u"  for  an  "n."  The 
word  means  a  cavalierly  hero,  knight,  chivalrous  and  honorable 
gentleman,  heroic  nobleman,  etc.,  and  Rutland  wrote  "PREU- 
ZIE,"  which  is  his  meaning  in  that  place. 

Two    Gentlemen    of   Verona:    Act    III,    Scene    1. 

Duke:      "There  is  a  lady,  sir  in  Milan  here." 

The  Folio  has  "Verona"  and  again  in  Act  V,   Scene  4. 

Val.  "Milan  shall  not  behold  thee,"  whereas  the  Folio  has 
it  "Verona."  As  this  Comedy  was  written  by  Rutland  while 
upon  his  excursions  in  Northern  Italy,  the  error  he  made  in 
not  naming  the  cities  correctly  is  natural,  seeing  that  he  wrote 
one  scene  in  one  city  and  another  while  at  another  city.  Rut- 
land never  wasted  time  and  wrote  whenever  opportunity  and 
leisure  offered. 


Latest  discoveries  (1910)  by  Prof.  Charles  Wm.  Wallace, 
University  of  Nebraska,  prove  that  the  Stratford  actor,  Shaxper 
lodged  at  a  wigmaker's  house  on  the  corner  of  Silver  and 
Mugwell  (now  Monkwell)  Streets  until  after  1613.  The  wig- 
maker's  name  was  Christopher  Montjoye,  whose  daughter  Mary 
married  her  father's  apprentice,  Stephen  Belott,  through 
Shaxper's  connivance  as  is  proved  by  records  of  a  lawsuit 
found  by  Dr.  Wallace. 

The  more  the  Stratfordites  discover  about  Wm.  Shaxper, 
actor,  of  Stratford  on  Avon,  the  more  impossible  do  they 
make  their  task  of  fitting  that  ignorant  boor  into  the  cloak  of 
the  author  of  Hamlet  or  Learl 

Always  something  discreditable  is  found!  While  living  at 
this  wigmaker's  house,  Shaxper  dunned  the  brother  of  Rutland 
for  balance  of  wages  due  Shaxper  as  dummy,  and  received 


52 

forty-four  (44)  shillings  per  entry  in  account  among  Belvoir 
Mss. 

Francis,  6th  Earl,  quarrels  with  Earl  Montgomery,  Roger's 
executor  in  Sept.  1612. 

The   King  stops   the   quarrel. 

Then  Francis  quarrels  with  Lord  Davers,  and  again  the 
quarrel  was  compromised. 

Note:  Montgomery  and  Davers  were  Roger's  intimate  friends 
and  despised  Francis  who,  in  their  opinion  had  caused  Roger's 
death  the  preceding  June. 


Mrs.  Pott,  in  her  book,  "The  Promus  of  Bacon"  says,  "The 
supposition  that  Bacon  and  'Shakespeare'  may  have  borrowed 
from  each  other,  will  prove  that  they  had  close  intercourse,  or 
that  they  made  specffic  critical  study  of  each  others  writings, 
borrowing  equally  the  same  kind  of  things  from  each  other,  so 
that  not  only  opinions  and  ideas,  but  similies,  terms  of  ex- 
pression and  words  which  the  one  introduced,  appeared  shortly 
afterwards  in  the  writings  of  the  other,  causing  their  style  to 
alter  definitely  and  in  the  same  respects,  and  at  the  same  time 
of  their  literary  lives." 

We  have  always  contended  that  Bacon  cribbed  the  brightest 
pearls  of  his  philosophy  from  Rutland's  manuscripts  which  he, 
as  Rutland's  "man  of  all  work,"  saw  before  any  other  man. 

Just  as  Newton  first  got  his  idea  of  the  laws  of  gravitation 
from  "Shakes-Speare"  and  Dr.  Harvey  his  discovery  of  the 
circulation  of  the  blood,  that  Rutland  referred  to  years  before 
Harvey  thought  of  it. 

One  proof  of  Bacon's  "cribbing"  from  Shakes-Speare  is,  irre- 
fragable. In  Troilus  and  Cressida,  Hector  says:  Act  II,  Scene  2 
(near  end),  "Paris  and  Troilus,  you  have  both  said  well;  and 
on  the  cause  and  question  now  in  hand  have  gloz'd — but  super- 
ficially; not  much  unlike  young  men,  whom  Aristotle  thought 
unfit  to  hear  Moral  philosophy:  *  *  " 

Rutland  wrote  these  lines  in  1604,  but  Sir  Francis  Bacon  in 
his  "Advancement  of  Learning"  1605,  makes  the  same  re- 
flection on  the  benefits  accruing  to  young  men  from  the  study 
of  Moral  philosophy,  accepting  Rutland's  purposely  altered 
quotation  from  Aristotle  who  had  said  it  was  Political 
philosophy  young  men  should  avoid  studying.  Now,  nothing 
could  be  plainer  than  that!  Wherever  Bacon's  philosophy  is 
sound,  it  will  be  found  better  expressed  in  "Shakes-Speare." 
Most  of  Bacon's  own  philosophy  can  be  easily  recognized  by  its 
leaning  towards  humbuggery.  Wherever  it  is  sound,  it  is  the 
philosophy  of  Hamlet,  Lear,  Jacques  and  other  offspring  of  the 
mind  of  Roger,  5th  Earl  of  Rutland,  student  of  Galileo  Galilei, 
Gaspard  Waser,  Giordano  Bruno,  Francesco  Boromeo,  Van 
Helmont,  Scaliger  and  all  the  other  masterminds  of  and  before 
his  time. 


53 

Montaigne  Rutland  had  at  his  finger  ends,  and  he  gave 
Resolute  John  Florio  many  useful  hints  in  his  masterful  trans- 
lation of  the  works  of  the  great  French  Philosopher. 

It  was  for  that  reason  that  Bacon  later  in  life,  engaged 
Latin  scholars  (Jonson  among  others),  to  translate  all  his  works 
into  Latin  in  order  that  in  the  retranslation  into  English  or 
other  modern  languages  the  expressions  bearing  the  unmis- 
takable stamp  and  trademark  of  Rutland  assume  a  different 
appearance  without  altering  the  sense. 

Bacon,  of  course,  gave  out  that  his  works  should  be  im- 
mortalized in  a  language  that  never  changes;  be  that  as  it 
may,  the  fact  remains  that  all  that  is  worth  reading  and  re- 
membering in  the  works  of  Sir  Francis  Bacon  can  be  found 
in  "Shake-Speare's"  works  in  a  much  more  agreeable  garb. 

All  Bacon's  life  was  a  humbug  and  he  never  allowed  an 
opportunity  to  slip  by  to  impress  this  fact  upon  all  who  knew 
him  in  life  and  all  who  knew  his  works  after  he  was  dead. 

In  Spedding's,  "Life  of  Sir  Francis  Bacon,"  he  says,  regard- 
ing resemblance  of  phrases,  thoughts  and  metaphors  found  in 
Shakes-Speare's  work  and  Bacon's, — "if  these  Essays  of  Bacon 
had  been  contained  in  earlier  editions,  than  Shake-Speare's,  it 
would  have  made  him  (Spedding)  suspect  Shake-Speare  had 
read  Bacon;  but  as  Bacon's  work  was  later,  of  course,  Shake- 
Speare  could  not  have  seen  them." 

We  now  know  that  anything  contained  in  the  works  of 
Sir  Francis  Bacon,  that  is  worth  remembering  is  all  to  be 
found  in  Shake-Speare — and  much  better  expressed — Bacon, 
as  Rutland's  "searcher  and  helper" — under  pay,  had,  of  course, 
first  sight  of  Rutland's  work. 

Malone — the  most  prominent  of  the  early  Shaxper  biographers, 
claims  that  there  must  have  been  some  author  before  the  Strat- 
ford Shaxper  to  account  for  the  early  plays. 

There  certainly  was,  and  his  name  was  John  Manners,  father 
of  Rutland  who  found  the  Mss.  of  these  early  plays  among 
his  father's  papers — after  the  death  of  his  faker  in  1588. 

Timon  of  Athens,  was  also  one  of  these  early  plays  and  John 
Manner's  version  was  based  upon  Lucian's  Greek  "Timon" 
which  was  not  translated  until  many  years  after  Rutland's 
time. 

John  Manners  did  not  succeed  his  brother  Edward  as  4th 
Earl  of  Rutland,  until  a  few  months  before  he  himself  died, 
on  Feb.  21,  1588,  and  had  spent  all  his  life  in  literary  pursuits. 
But  not  a  line  of  his  works  are  extant  except  such  as  are 
represented  by  the  early  plays  which  Rutland  amended, 
augmented  and  rewrote  and  are  now  known  as  part  of  the  work 
of  William  Shake-Speare." 

In    "Timon"    we    trace    Sophocles,    Euripides,    Plato,    Virgil, 


54 

Ovid,    Horace,   Seneca,   Tacitus  and   others,   all   of   which   works 
are  still  to  be  found  in  the  Belvoir  Library. 

(Note:  After  most  careful  search  no  books  were  found  under 
Shaxper's  second  best  bed  or  elsewhere  about  his  house  or  usual 
haunts!) 


Rutland  gives  a  good  description  of  his  brother  Francis  (who 
succeeded  him)  in  the  character  of  "Antonio,"  Act  I,  Scene  2, 
of  "Tempest"  fully  set  forth  elsewhere.  If  this  miserable  man 
did  not  murder  his  brother,  he  surely  drove  him  to  suicide. 

In  1618-19,  this  Francis,  personally  prosecuted  the  poor 
women  whom  he  accused  of  killing  his  two  sons  by  witchcraft 
and  sorcery — and  he  had  these  women  burned  at  the  stake — 
and,  further,  gloried  in  this  dastardly  deed  by  inscribing  the 
details  of  this  crime  on  a  tablet  on  his  monument,  erected 
before  his  death  in  the  Bottesford  Church  where  it  may  be 
read  to  this  day.  That  he  personally  erected  this  tablet  is 
proved  by  the  omission  of  the  date  of  his  death  in  inscrip- 
tion— (February  20th,  1632). 

This  Francis  had  trouble  with  his  cousin,  the  son  of  the 
Earl  of  Exeter,  who  claimed  part  of  the  Rutland  Estates  by 
virtue  of  descent  from  Edward,  the  3rd  Earl  of  Rutland. 

King  James  decided  against  Lord  Ross  and  sent  him  on  a 
mission  to  Spain.  From  Spain,  Ross  went  to  Naples,  and 
vowed  he  would  not  rest  until  he  got  satisfaction.  Shortly 
after  this  he  died  of  poison  and  this  Francis,  6th  Earl  of  Rut- 
land was  called  upon  to  explain. 

A  writ  of  inquiry  was  issued  against  Lord  Francis  and  the 
matter  was  smoothed  over  by  giving  his  daughter,  Catherine,  to 
George  Villiers,  Duke  of  Buckingham,  to  wife — a  man  whom 
Francis  utterly  despised  as  a  low  born  scullion. 

In  view  of  the  above  it  is  conceivable  how  a  noble  minded 
man  like  our  Rutland — Prospero — could  be  driven  to  let  his 
"Ariel"  have  his  liberty,  when  but  thirty-six  year's  old.  Rutland 
was  no  ordinary  man, — he  welcomed  death  when  he  felt  his 
brother  wished  for  it — ;  but  from  the  deathbed  of  this  Francis, 
comes  an  echo  of  "words"  he  uttered  that  none  present  could 
understand. 

We  can  understand  very  well  what  they  should  have  been 
if  the  dying  man  saw  in  his  imagination  the  figure  of  his 
brother  Roger  at  the  foot  of  the  bed — ! 


While  it  would  seem  hardly  necessary  to  reiterate  the  fact 
that  Sidney  Lee  author  of  a  fabulistic  "Life"  of  the  Stratford 
player  is  utterly  untrustworthy  in  his  conclusions,  it  may  be 
of  interest  to  scholars  to  know  that  this  Lee  himself,  establishes 


ESSEX  HOUSli,   " 
ere  Rutland  was  arrested 
on  February  8,  1601. 


55 

the  truth  of  his  criminality  in  perverting  facts.  Lee's  account 
of  the  Stratford  poacher  in  the  National  Dictionary  of 
Biography  actually  refutes  statements  in  his  "Life"  of  the  ex- 
poacher  and  player.  Lee's  "scholarly  habits"  have  led  him  into 
methods  alike  dishonest  and  dishonorable  all  of  which  seema 
to  come  natural  to  a  creature  who  disowns  the  name  hia 
honored  father  gave  him  as  well  as  the  patronimic  bestowed 
upon  his  family  by  a  race  that  cannot  but  feel  highly  honored 
by  the  desertion  of  this  soulless  humbug.  Under  the  re- 
spectable name  of  "Solomon  Lazarus  Levy"  this  euphonistic 
"Sidney  Lee"  failed  with  all  his  "Scholarly  habits"  to  get  his 
degree  at  Oxford  and  in  his  chagrin  found  it  congenial  em- 
ployment to  emulate  the  zeal  of  the  arch  forger  John  Payne 
Collier  in  the  nefarious  attempt  to  clothe  the  disreputable  ex- 
poacher,  William  Shaxper  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  with  the  in- 
comparable genius  of  Shake-Speare. 

A  detailed  analysis  of  this  Sidney  Lee's  "Life  of  Shake- 
speare" will  appear  in  a  forthcoming  biography  of  Roger 
Manners,  5th  Earl  of  Rutland. 


BEN  JONSON'S  EPIGRAM  TO  THE  HONORED 

COUNTESS   OF    RUTLAND 
The  wisdom,  madam,  of  your  private  life, 
Wherewith  this  while  you  live  a  widowed  wife. 
And  the  right  ways  you  take  unto  the  right 
To  conquer  rumor  and  triumph  on  spite 
Not    only   shunning   by   your   act  to   do 
Aught  that  is  ill,  but  the  suspicion  too, 
Is   of  so  brave  example,  as  he  were 
No  friend  to  virtue,  could  be  silent  here; 
The  rather  when  the  vices  of  the  time 
Are   grown   so   fruitful   and   false   pleasures  climb 
By   all    oblique    degrees,    that    killing   height 
From  whence  they  fall,  cast  down  with  their  own  weight 
And  though  all  praise  bring  nothing  to  your  name 
Who    (herein    studying   conscience    and    not    fame) 
Are   in   yourself   rewarded;   yet   'twill   be 
A  cheerful  work  to  all  good   eyes  to  see 
Among   the   daily   ruins   that   fall   foul 
Of  state,  of  fame,  of  body  and  of  soul, 
So  great  a  virtue,  stand  upright  to  view, 
As  makes  Penelope's  old  fable  true. 
Whil'st  your  Ulysses  hath  ta'en  leave  to  go 
Countries  and  climes,  manners  and  men  to  know. 
Only  your  tune  you  better  entertain, 
Than   the   great   Homer's   wit   for    her   could   feign; 
For  you  admit  no  company  but  good 

And    when    you    want    those    friends,    or    near    in    blood, 
Or    your    allies,    you    make    your    books    your    friends, 


56 

And  study  them  unto  the  noblest  ends. 

Searching    for    knowledge,    and    to    keep    your    mind 

The  same  it  was  inspired,  rich  and  refined. 

These  graces,  when  the  rest  of  ladies  view, 

Not  boasted  in  your  life,  but  practised  true, 

As    they    are    hard    for    them    to    make    their    own, 

So   are   they   profitable    to   be   known: 

For  when  they  find  so  many  meet  in  one, 

It  will  be  shame  for  them  if  they  have  none. 


Ben  Jonson's  Epigram  on  Rutland  after  the  Earl  had  objected 
to    Ben's    prowling    around. 

"To  one   that  desires  me  not  to  name  him: 
"Be   safe,    nor    fear   thyself   so   good   a   fame 
That  any  way  my  book  shall  speak  thy  name 
For,   if   thou   shame   ranked   with   my   friends   to   go 
I'm   more   ashamed  to   have   thee   thought  my   foe." 


LINES  TO   WILLIAM,   EARL  OF  PEMBROKE. 

BY  BEN  JON  SON. 

"I    do   but   name   thee   Pembroke,   and    I    find 
It  is  an  epigram  on  all  mankind 
Against    the    bad,    but    of,    and    to    the    good 
Both   which  are  asked,   to   have  thee  understood; 
Nor  could  the  age  have  missed  thee  in  this  strife 
Of    vice    and    virtue    wherein   all    great   life 
Almost    is    exercised    and    scarce    one    knows 
To    which,   yet   of   the   sides   himself   he   owes. 
They    follow    virtue    for    reward    today; 
Tomorrow  vice,  if  she  give  better  pay 
And  are  so  good,  and  bad,  just  at  a  price, 
As  nothing  else  discerns  the  virtue  or  vice. 
But  thou,   whose  noblesse  keeps  one  stature  still, 
And   one  true  posture,  though  besieged  with  ill 
Of   what  ambition,   faction,   pride  can  raise; 
Whose  life  even  they  that  envy  it,  must  praise; 
That  art  so  reverenced,  as  thy  coming  in, 
But  in  the  view  doth  interrupt  their  sin; 
Thou  must  draw  more:  and  they  that  hope  to  see 
The  commonwealth  still  safe,  must  study  thee." 


WILLIAM  DRUMMOND'S  OPINION  OF  BEN  JONSON 
WHO    VISITED   THE    SCOTCH    POET   AT 

HAWTHORNDEN  IN  1619. 
January  19,  1619. 

"He  (Jonson)  is  a  great  lover  and  praiser  of  himself;  a  con- 
temner  and  scorner  of  others;  given  rather  to  lose  a  friend  than 
a  jest;  jealous  of  every  word  and  action  of  those  about  him 
(especially  after  drink,  which  is  one  of  the  elements  in  which  he 


57 

liveth)  a  dissembler  of  ill  parts  which  reign  in  him;  a  bragger 
of  some  good  that  he  wanteth;  thinketh  nothing  well  but  what 
either  he  himself,  or  some  of  his  friends  and  countrymen  hath 
said  or  done.  *  *  *  " 

This  certificate  of  character  can  be  safely  used,  as  an  exhibit 
in  a  case  at  law  involving  Jonson's  real  sentiments  in  respect 
to  his  pothouse  companion  Shaxper,  as  expressed  in  his 
"Discoveries"  and  his  poem  prefacing  the  First  Folio — also 
his  remarks  to  Drummond  as  recorded  by  the  poet  of 
Hawthoriiden. 

William  Dethick,  the  Garter  King  at  Arms  was  suspended  for 
crookedness  in  office — one  case  was  where  he  allowed  a  plasterer 
named  Daukin  to  sport  a  coat  of  arms,  another  was  John  Shak- 
sper's  notorious  fraud  managed  by  William,  his  son. 

When  Essex  was  being  arrested  on  February  8,    1601,  DethicK 
was  acting  as  "herald"  and  Essex  ignored  him.     This  was  urged 
against  Essex  on  his  trial  and  he  replied,  "I  saw  no  'herald'  but 
that  branded  fellow  whom  I  took  for  no  'herald.'  " 


Contemporary  Statesmen  agree  that  the  remark  made  by  Essex 
about  the  Queen  that  she  was  as  "crooked  without  as  within," 
was  the  real  cause  of  Elizabeth's  anger  against  her  former  lover. 
What  Essex  really  said,  Rutland  reproduces  in  Act  IV,  Scene  1, 
of  the  "Tempest." 

"Prospero:  And  as  with  age,  his  body  uglier  grows,  so  his 
mind  cankers." 

In  the  "Tempest,"  Act  III,  Scene  3,  Gonzalo  speaks  of 
"Mountaineers,  dewlapped  like  bulls."  While  traveling  in  the 
Alps,  Rutland  observed  the  frequency  of  the  disease  called 
^'Goitre"  which  is  so  common  in  Switzerland. 

Is  it  probable  that  the  Stratford  man  should  be  so  familiar 
with  this  as  to  incorporate  it  in  a  play,  or  again,  in  "Midsummer 
Nights  Dream,"  Act  V,  Scene  1,  near  the  end,  "Bottom"  asks: 
"Will  it  please  you  to  see  the  Epilogue,  or  to  hear  a  Ber- 
gomask  dance?"  What  could  Stratford  Shaxper  know  of  a 
"Bergomask  dance." 

It  is  a  dance  peculiar  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  territory  about 
Bergamo  in  Italy,  where  Rutland  spent  many  days  observing 
the  people  and  especially  digging  among  the  musty  Mss.  then  at 
the  Palazzo  Veechio  at  Bergamo. 


King  Henry  IV,  part  2.     Act  II,   Scene  4. 

Lady  Percy:     "For  his,  it  stuck  upon  him  as  the  sun  *  *  *  " 
.and   the   following  twenty-seven   lines   are   Rutland's   description 
of  the -Earl   of  Essex  and  these  lines  were  first  printed  in  the 
Folio  of  1623. 

King  Henry  V.     Act  I,   Scene  2. 

Exeter:     "It  follows  then  the  cat  must  stay  at  home  *  *  "  and 
the   following  ten   lines   are   paraphrased  from  Cicero's  "de   Re- 


58 

publica"  (lost,  but  preserved  in  the  writings  of  St.  Augustine). 
Even  Cicero  had  adapted  his  lines  from  Platos  "Republic"  from 
which  Rutland's  version  are  almost  literally  translated.  The 
lines  will  be  found  in  Plato's  4th  Book.  All  ancient  literature 
was  to  be  found  in  Rutland's  library  at  Belvoir  and  none  of 
these  had  been  translated  into  English  in  his  time,  but  Rutland 
knew  Greek  and  Latin  perfectly,  whereas,  the  Stratford  clown 
knew — ? 

Act  V.  Chorus:  "How  London  doth  pour  out  *  *  "  and 
the  following  ten  lines  allude  to  Essex  in  Ireland  in  1599  whither 
Rutland  had  accompanied  him  as  Colonel  of  Foot.  This  proves 
that  this  history  was  written  after  March,  1599,  when  Essex, 
Southampton  and  Rutland  started  for  Ireland. 


Extracts  from  Ben  Jonson's  conversations  with  Wm.  Drummond 
of  Hawthornden,  1619,  alluding  to  Rutland-Shake-Speare. 

1.     "That  Shakspeer  wanted  Arte." 


2.     "That  Daniels  was  at  jealousies  with  himi." 

Note:  Jonsen  says  in  a  letter  to  the  Countess  of  Rutland  that 

(Samuel)  Daniel  envied  him,  though  he  bore  him  no  ill  will  on 

his  part. 


3.  "That  (Sir  Thomas)  Overbury  was  first  his  friend,  then 
turned  his  mortal  enemy." 

Note :  Overbury  had  written  his  famous  poem,  "The  Wife,"  and 
had  asked  Jonson  to  read  it  to  the  Countess  of  Rutland  when 
next  he  attended  one  of  her  usual  gatherings  of  literary  friends. 
As  Jonson  noted  that  Overbury  was  in  love  with  the  Countess, 
he  declined  to  meddle  further  in  the  matter.  Jonson,  however, 
read  Overbury's  poem  to  the  Countess  and  the  latter  pointed  to 
the  line: 

"He  conies  too  near  who  comes  to  be  denied." 


4.  "Shakspear,  in  a  play,  brought  in  a  number  of  men,  say- 
ing they  had  suffered  shipwreck  in  Bohemia,  where  there  is  no 
sea  near  by  some  100  miles." 

Note:  Jonson  criticizing  Shakespeare,  who,  he  suspected,  was 
Rutland. 


5.  "The  Countess  of  Rutland  was  nothing  inferior  to  her 
father,  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  in  poesy.  Beaumont  wrote  that  elegy 
on  the  death  of  the  Countess  of  Rutland  and  in  effect  of  her  hus- 
band (Roger,  5th  Earl  of  Rutland),  wanted  the  half  of  his  (sic 
in  Ms.)  in  his  travels.  Jonson  also  wrote  many  lines  to  this  lady 
among  which: — 


59 

"With  you  I  know  my  offering  will  find  grace 
For  what  a  sin  'gainst  your  great  father's  spirit 
Were  it  to  think  that  you  should  not  inherit 
His  love  unto  the  muses,  when  his  skill 
Almost  you  have  or  may  have  when  you  will." 

The  Countess  of  Rutland  was  the  only  child  of  Sir  Philip 
Sidney;  was  the  wife  of  the  5th  Earl  of  Rutland,  who  died  in 
1612;  she  herself  died  shortly  after,  that  same  year,  issueless. 

Note:  As  this  lady  brought  her  husband  all  the  books,  letters 
and  Mss.  of  her  celebrated  father  it  is  natural  that  Shake- 
Speare's  Sonnets  should  "breathe  the  spirit  of  Sidney"  as  Mr. 
Disraeli  puts  it,  not  knowing  that  Rutland  wrote  under  the 
nom  de  plume  "Shake-Speare."  Ben  Jonson  thought  Lady  Rut- 
land was  better  able  to  write  than  even  her  lord  (Rutland). 

6.  Every  first  day  of  the  new  year  he  (Jonson)  had  £20 
sent  him  from  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  to  buy  books. 

Note:  Pembroke  pensioned  Jonson  to  engage  his  pen  for  the 
First  Folio.  Pembroke  knew  that  Jonson  had  suspicion  that  Rut- 
land (Pembroke's  Cousin)  was  "Shake-Speare"  and  Pembroke 
considered  it  advisable  to  shut  Ben's  mouth  by  engaging  his  pen. 
It  is  generally  admitted  that  rare  Ben  Jonson  wrote  the  Dedica- 
tion and  also  the  "Address  to  the  Variety  of  Readers"  prefatory 
to  the  great  Folio  and  signed  by  the  players  of  Burbage's  Com- 
pany, Heminge  and  Condell,  fellows  of  Shaxper  of  Stratford 
who  was  acting  as  dummy  for  Rutland. 


7.  "Ben,  one  day,  being  at  table  with  my  Lady  Rutland,  her 
husband    coming   in,    accused    her   that   she    kept   table   to    poets 
of  which  she  wrote  a  letter  to  him  (Jonson)  which  he  answered, 
my  lord  intercepted  the  letter,  but  never  challenged  him." 

Note:  Rutland  knew  that  Jo>.nson  suspected  him  to  be  the 
mysterious  dramatist  "Shake-Speare",  and  he  merely  wished  Lady 
Rutland  to  exercise  caution  with  Jo  nson — for  both  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher  as  well  as  Daniels  and  Donne  were  often  at  Lady 
Rutland's  literary  gatherings. 

In  this  connection  it  furnishes  proof  that  Shaxper,  the  Strat- 
ford player  was  not  the  great  dramatist  but  was  the  dummy 
representing  "Shake-Speare"  and  in  this  capacity  would  not  be  re- 
cieved  at  Lady  Rutland's  receptions — and  he  never  was  per- 
mitted  to  associate  with  any  class  higher  than  his  own  dis- 
reputable station.  Ben  Jonson,  on  the  other  hand,  although  more 
or  less  intimate  with  Shaxper  of  Stratford,  was  highly  respected 
in  high  society  and  was  a  welcome  quest  at  many  of  the  great 
houses.  Jonson  told  Drummond  that.  (See  memo.  8,  9  and  10). 

8.  "Pembroke    and    his    lady    discoursing,    the    earl    said    the 
women    were    men's    shadows,    and    she    maintained    them    (the 
women).    Both  appealed  to  Jonson;  he  affirmed  it  true,  for  which 
my  lady  gave  Jonson  a  penance  to  prove  it  in  verse.      Hence 
Jonson's  Epigram." 


60 

Note:  This  proves  Jonson's  status  in  society  as  well  as 
Shaxper's  lack  of  any  status,  who  was  never  known  to  mingle 
with  great  folks. 

9.  He  (Jonson)  hath  a  pastoral  entitled  "The  May  Lord"  the 
characters  of  which  include  the  Countesses  of  Rutland,  Bedford, 
Suffolk,    Pembroke,    Lady    Howard,    Sir    Thomas    Overbury    and 
Rare  Ben  Jonson  himself  as  "Alkin". 

Note:  Ben  Jonson's  position  was  rather  secure  to  judge  from 
this,  while,  per  contra,  that  of  his  whilom  friend  Shaxper  of 
Stratford  was  confined  to  the  "Stews,  in  the  Liberty  of  th« 
Clink"  where  he  lodged. 

10.  He  (Jonson)  said  to  Prince  Charles  of  Inigo  Jones,  that 
"when  he  wanted  words  to  express  the  greatest  villian  in  the 
world,  he  would  call  him  an  Inigo." 

Note:  This  proves  Jonson's  intimacy  with  a  great  prince, 
Inigo  Jones  being  much  in  the  employ  of  the  Royal  family. 
Shaxper's  intimacies  lay  in  quite  another  direction  as  is  proved 
by  Lady  Southampton's  letter  to  her  lord  identifying  the  Strat- 
ford player  with  Falstaff,  informing  her  lord  that  "Sir  John" 
had  become  the  father  of  a  Miller's  thumb,  all  head  and  very 
little  body.  This  was  in  1599  when  Shaxper  lodged  at  "hostess 
Quickly's"  in  the  stews. 

Here  add  tne  fact  that  Jonson  was  frequently  employed  by 
King  James  I.  whilst  Stratfordian  biographers  seek  comfort  in  a 
letter  supposed  to  have  been  written  by  King  James  to  Shaxper, 
according  to  Sir  William  Davenant,  a  then  notorious  liar.  It  is 
needless  to  add  that  there  were  many  letters  addressed  by  King 
James  to  Rutland,  also  that  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that 
King  James  I.  knew  Rutland  to  be  "Shake- Speare". 


FROM   "TAMING   OF  THE   SHREW." 

Bianco : 

"My  books  and  instruments  shall  be  my  company 
On  them  to  look,  and  practice  by  myself." 

Baptist  a: 

"Schoolmasters  will  I   keep  within  my  house 

Fit  to  instruct  her  youth.   *   *   * 

I  will  be  very  kind  and  liberal 

To  mine  own  children  in  good  bringing  up." 

Thus  wrote  Rutland- Shake- Speare  while  the  Stratford  usurer, 
Shaxper,  allowed  his  daughters  to  grow  up  in  ignorance.  Though 
they  lived  to  be  old  women  they  never  learned  to  read  or  write. 


Rutland  made  valuable  donations  to  his  University  at  Cam- 
bridge and  founded  a  Free  School  at  Bottesford  in  1612,  the 
year  he  died. 


6i 


ROGER  OF  RUTLAND 

A  DRAMA  IN  FIVE  ACTS. 

(Second   Edition  Amended  and  Auement«d| 

BY 

LEWIS    F.   BOSTELMANN 

ACT  I. 

SCENI  I.    Room  in  Drury  House,  EARL  SOUTHAMPTON'S 
Town  House. 

Enter  ATTENDANT  with  SIR  FRANCIS  BACON. 

Attendant.  The  Earl  of  Rutland  hath  but  now  arrived, 
Sir  Francis,  and  will  be  here  anon, 
My  lord  Southampton  who  is  with  him  now 
Is  overjoyed  at  the  young  Earl's  arrival. 

Bacon.  'Tis  well,  I'll  rest  me  here  awhile. 
Your  master  and  the  Earl  know  of  my  coming, 
And  will  not  keep  me  waiting  over  long; 
But,  hark !  I  hear  their  voices  even  now, 
And  by  the  sound  would  judge  their  near  approach. 

Attendant.    'Tis  they,  Sir  Francis,  now  coming  up  the 
path. 

Enter  RUTLAND  and  SOUTHAMPTON. 

Rutland.   Well  met,  Sir  Francis,  did  you  tarry  long? 

Bacon.    Nay,  nay,  and  if  I  did,  milord,  the  pleasure 
Of  anticipation  cheers  the  heart. 

Southampton.  Well  said,  good  master,  so  it  was  with 

me 

These  past  three  weeks  seemed  but  as  many  days 
And,  now,  since  time  is  precious,  let's  to  work 
And  see  how  we  can  blanket  this  young  scapegrace 
Who  still  insists  his  muse  must  issue  forth 
To  startle  mankind  with  its  genius. 

Rutland.    If  flattery  could  affect  me,  Wriothesly 


62 

Unworthy  were  my  muse  of  thy  good  words; 
For  well  I  know,  the  heart  from  which  it  springs 
Must  be  oblivious  to  flattery. 

Bacon.    Well  put,  fair  Rutland,  pure  must  be  the  heart 
To  give  undying  vigor  to  its  speech. 
I  did  peruse  your  Venus  and  Adonis 
And  eke  Lucrecia  and  her  woeful  plight. 

Rutland,    (interrupting) 
Nay,  good,  my  master,  'twas  my  first  attempt 
And  though  the  copy  is  without  a  blot 
The  subject  could  stand  mending, 
And  I  most  humbly,  Wriothesly,  beg  pardon 
For  dedicating  such  poor  stuff  to  thee, 
But,  for  the  fact  that  'twas  the  very  best 
Within  me  to  bestow,  I  made  it  thine, 
Feeling  thy  heart  would  search  the  giver— not  the  gift" 

Southampton.    Thou  knowest,  my  Rutland,  how  aught 

words  of  thine 

On  paper  or  by  mouth  affect  my  heart, 
But  jealous  am  I  of  the  niggard  world 
And  would  advise,  to  shield  thee  from  its  breath, 
To  have  the  ancient  name  of  Rutland  hid 
Behind  some  serviceable  nom  de  plume. 

Bacon.    Well  have  I  pondered  o'er  the  matter,  good 

milords 

And  reck  a  psuedonym  alone  will  not  suffice, 
As  our  philosophers  and  critics  of  the  day 
Would  soon  uncover  such  a  thin  disguise 
And  fill  the  author's  ears  with  damning  praise, 
More  apt  to  suffocate  a  budding  muse 
Than  nurse  development. 

Southampton.     I  did  perceive,  you  rtscal,  that  you 

have 

Signed  "William  Shake-speare"  to  your  infant  lines. 
How  came  you  by  that  hyphenated  nomen  ? 

Rutland.    Tis  simple,  I  took  shelter  under  Pallas 
Goddess  of  Wisdom,  and  her  pointed  spear 
Is  meant  to  brandish  at  the  eyes  of  ignorance! 


Bacon.    'Tis  fortunate  you  chose  that  very  name 
It  will  assist  my  plans  in  your  affair. 
It  now  remains  to  fit  this  happy  pseudonym 
To  some  one  living  who  could  answer  it 
Beside,  my  lord  of  Rutland. 

Southampton.     And  such  a  person,  have  you  one  in 
mind? 

Bacon.    I  have,  milord,  and  fortune  favors  us. 
'Tis  though  Minerva  saw  the  need  we  had 
And  with  her  spear  points  out  the  very  man, 
In  life  and  action  so  appropriate 
That  even  milord  Rutland's  chosen  goddess 
Has  fixed  the  name  he  bears  to  fit  our  cause. 

Rutland.     Who   may   this   marvel   be,   good   master 
Bacon  ? 

Southampton.    And  how  conditioned,  has  he  itch  of 

palm  ? 
Pray,  draw  a  portrait  of  this  paragon. 

Bacon.    I've  met  the  man  from  knowing  his  employer, 
In  body  he  is  stout,  of  ample  girth. 
His  hair  he  shingles  over  niggard  ears 
And  grows  mustachios  with  a  beard  to  point. 
But  lately  he  has  run  away  from  home 
To  'void  attachment  for  some  deer  he  stalked; 
And,  having  mimic  force  to  some  extent 
Found  shelter  at  the  play  house  where  of  late 
Burbage  and  Heminge  mount  the  public  play. 
They've  put  the  man  to  work  to  hold  the  horses 
When  such  as  you,  milord,  go  to  the  show; 
And  when  a  ghost  must  walk  upon  the  boards 
Or  Jack's  to  say,  "Milord,  the  horse  is  saddled." 
They  call  upon  this  clod  from  Warwickshire 
To  fill  the  role. 

Rutland.    A  fair  description,  by  my  faith,  Sir  Francis, 
A  bumpkin  such  as  he  to  act  as  father 
To  any  waifs  I  may  in  future  lay 
Into  his  hands  for  shelter  and  protection! 

Southampton.     Egad,   I   think   myself   good   master 
Bacon 


64 

'Tis  but  indifferent  timber  that  you  offer 
To  build  a  raft  to  float,  my  Rutland's  muse 
But,  stay,  is  there  not  one  redeeming  feature? 

Bacon.    There  is,  milord,  and  one  I'm  sure  will  win. 
The  man,  though  bright,  is  sans  all  education ; 
He  has  a  family  at  his  Stratford  home; 
His  urgent  needs  make  him  a  bitter  master 
And  love  of  gold  will  bend  him  to  your  will. 

(to  Rutland).     Since  first  milord  Southampton  did 

advise  me 

Of  your  necessity,  my  noble  lord, 
I  fully  measured  up  this  rustic  lad 
And  saw  the  justice  of  my  born  suspicion 
That  he,  and  no  one  else,  would  fill  your  bill; 
And  were  all  else  against  the  man  I  found 
His  name  alone  should  order  his  selection. 

Rutland.    What  virtue  may  be  in  the  cognomen 
Of  such  a  bumpkin  as  you  have  described? 

Southampton.    Bethink  you,  Bacon,  'tis  the  name  alone 
Will  couple  Stratford  to  Lord  Rutland's  muse! 

Bacon.    His  name  is  William  Shaxper ! 

Rutland.    Shaxper ! 

Southampton.    And  William  Shaxper,  too? 

Bacon.    Aye.  Shaxper,  William  Shaxper! 
Actor  and  Hostler  at  the  Globe ! 

Rutland.     How  came  that  country  bumpkin  by  that 
name? 

Southampton,     (mockingly)    Minerva    knowing    thy 

necessity 

Ages  before  thy  muse  was  to  be  born 
No  doubt  affixed  the  name  you  chose 
To  cover  your  effusions  from  the  world 
Upon  the  ancestor  of  this  poltroon. 

Bacon.  You  jest  my  lord, 

'Twas  even  so,  and  if  you  will  allow, 
His  father  once  was  Councilman  at  Stratford! 

Rutland.    Tis  well  and  how  can  we  approach  thii 
man. 


65 

Enter  LORD  SIDNEY  (unperceived.} 
Sidney  (aside).  Ha,  ha,  there's  something  underway! 
I  must  have  data  for  my  day's  report,  to  entertain 
the  Queen.  Fresh  gossip  in  her  ears  delights  her, 
and  is  a  stepping-stone  to  place  and  fortune !  (Hides 
behind  a  curtain.) 

Bacon.    The  day  is  young,  despatch  a  messenger 
To  Master  Burbage  on  the  Surry  side, 
Directing  him  to  send  this  man  I  named 
Here  to  this  house  on  pretext  that  some  horses 
Be  led  to  the  theatre  'gainst  to-night. 
Southampton.    [Calling  attendant.] 
This  will  we  do  without  delay,  good  Bacon, 
And  I  will  write  the  message  in  my  name. 
[Writing.] 
Bacon.    [To  Rutland]  This  man,  I  have  no  doubt  will 

not  delay, 

And  we'll  dispatch  this  matter  here  before  he  leaves 
If,  that,  you  have  no  other  business  elsewhere 
To  carry  you  away  before  he  comes. 
Rutland.     Nay,  good  my  master,  I  have  nought  on 

hand, 

And  shall  be  glad  to  have  this  matter  settled 
Before  I  have  a  play,  I  have  completed, 
Put  on  the  boards  by  Burbage  and  his  troupe. 

Enter  ATTENDANT. 
Southampton.    Have  this  dispatched  at  once  to  Master 

Burbage 
And  have  the  person  mentioned  brought  me  here. 

[Exit  Attendant. 

Bacon.    Now  there  appears  to  me  another  matter 
[To  Rutland]  Of  grave  import  to  safer  secrecy 
In  future  plays  you  now  propose  to  write, 
To  better  lead  a  prying  world  astray. 
Endeavor  to  inject  some  silly  fault, 
Some  rank  absurdity  that  must  not  mar 
The  beauty  and  the  semblance  of  your  work. 
For  instance,  when  you  write  of  Julius  Caesar. 
Speak  of  a  clock  to  strike  the  passing  hour; 


66 

Some  inland  Kingdom  like  Bohemia 
Must  wash  its  shores  upon  the  raging  sea. 

Rutland.    And  why  advise  disfiguring  my  work? 

Bacon.    Such  trifling  bulls  will  shield  you  better  far 
Than  any  other  subterfuge  can  do. 
Who  would  suppose  that  Roger,  Earl  of  Rutland, 
Was  unaware  that  clocks  were  not  invented 
When  Caesar  issued  forth  to  meet  his  death, 
Or  that  the  rockbound  Kingdom  of  Bohemia 
Could  not  be  reached  by  ship  from  Sicily? 

Southampton.     Egad!    a    clever   trick,   good   master 
Bacon ! 

Rutland.    I  marvel,  sir,  at  your  sagacity!       [All  exit. 

Sidney.     [Coming  out  from  hiding  place.] 
So  it  is  true,  milord  of  Rutland's  here; 
I  heard  he  was  about  to  come  to  London, 
But  was  not  sure  enough  to  make  report. 
'Tis  just  as  well  that  now  I  have  the  fact 
To  lay  before  my  sovereign  to-night. 
She  will  be  jealous  of  this  tactless  slight 
And,  Rutland  pretty  fellow,  he  may  be; 
But,  then  at  court  he'll  get  into  my  way 
And  somewhat  block  the  flow  of  my  ambition. 
'Tis  strange,  the  Queen  should  send  me  to  this  house 
To  ask  Southampton  full  particulars 
Of  the  two  poems  lately  put  in  print, 
On  Venus  and  Adonis  and  Lucrecia, 
Both  dedicated  to  milord  Southampton, 
And  causing  such  a  stir  amongst  the  wits 
Too  bad  I  could  not  hear  just  what  they  said 
But  this  I  learned,  my  noble  lord  of  Rutland 
Is  cogitating  on  a  subject  which 
Must  not  escape  me. 

Sidney,  look  sharp !    You  have  a  fertile  field. 
Plow  deep  and  closely  scan  the  turned  up  sod. 
Burbage,  they  say,  who  may  this  Burbage  be  ? 
Ho,  ho !    Let's  see,— the  showman  at  the  Globe 
Is  one  Burbage!    There  is  a  clue! 
CURTAIN. 


SCENE  II.    Globe  Theatre. 

Enter  BURBAGE  and  HEMINGE. 

Burbage.  No,  Heminge, 

We'll  let  the  thing  run  on  another  week; 
The  house  last  night  was  not  full  occupied 
And  that  for  once  caused  me  but  small  concern. 
This  play  of  York  and  Lancaster  seems  slow. 
It  lacks  the  life  and  action  I  would  have. 

Heminge.    Right,   Burbage,  the  "Contention"   is  but 

weak 

And  wants  the  spirit — well,  when  all  is  told, 
Its  author,  whosoe'er  the  man  may  be, 
Lacks  the  experience.    Would  I  knew  the  man. 
'Tis  awkward  to  make  changes  and  not  know 
The  chap  whose  corn  we  bruise  by  doing  so. 

Burbage.    The   scene  where   Clifford  murders   Rut- 
land's boy 

Was  acted  dolefully  without  all  vim 
There's  Peel,  egad,  his  dismal  Clifford  act 
Did  murder  by  his  miserable  play 
Far  better  than  intentioned  by  the  author, 
And  to  my  seeming  the  young  victim  died 
More  from  effect  of  execrable  acting 
Than  by  the  sword  play  of  that  bungler. 

Heminge.     But  'twas  to  laugh  when  Kemp  as  mes- 
senger 

Changed  clothes  to  take  the  part  of  Somerset, 
Not  having  time  to  take  his  part  again 
I  called  in  our  new  lad  from  Warwickshire 
To  jump  into  the  gap.    Did'st  notice  how 
He  strutted  forth  with  that  fat  paunch  of  his, 
And  shout  as  though  he  drove  a  yoke  of  oxen  ? 

My  Lords,  "Duke"  Edward  with  a  mighty  powef 
"Is  marching  hitherwards  to  fight  with  you" 
O'  'twas  the  richest  thing  I  ever  saw ! 

Burbage.    That  Stratford  lad  may  be  an  actor  yet 
But  then  I'm  feared,  he'll  have  to  fast  a  bit 


68 

Or  chisel  down  his  paunch  some  other  way. 
Did'st  note  Kemp's  doublet  on  this  awful  back 
Split  in  the  seams !     But  luck  would  have  it 
The  thing  looked  natural,  and  the  very  part 
Enter  CONDELL. 

Condell.    [Imitating  Shaxper's  acting.} 
"My  lords  King  Edward  with  a  mighty  power 
"Is  marching  hitherward  to  fight  with  you" 

Burbage.    Ha,  ha,  well  done,  Condell,  upon  my  word. 

Heminge.    The  illustration  comes  in  very  time 
We  now  were  speaking  of  the  Stratford  lad. 
He'll  do  in  time ;  but  he  has  too  much  flesh ; 
We'll  have  to  diet  him  'gainst  further  use. 

Condell.    And  in  the  meantime  let  him  walk  the  ghost, 
But  squibs  aside,  he  is  a  likely  fellow ; 
Quick  to  discern,  and,  when  it  comes  to  that, 
His  paunch  may  be  the  very  thing  we'll  want 
When  giving  Oldcastle  this  coming  week. 

Burbage.    There  certainly  would  be  no  danger  then 
In  spilling  forth  the  bag  of  barley  straw ; 
As  once  did  hap  when  Pope  played  the  old  knight. 

Heminge.    I  well  remember,  'twas  a  comic  sight. 
The  house  was  almost  thrown  into  convulsions. 

Condell.     I  heard  about  that  droll  affair.     In  that 

respect 

Give  me  a  paunch  that's  made  of  flesh ; 
It's  weight  will  keep  the  fellow  on  his  pins 
Should  he  grow  faint  with  nerves. 

Burbage.     Can  such  a  clod  have  nerves? 

Heminge.     None,  I  should  think,  but  it  would  take 
A  blackthorn  stave  to  wake  them  into  action. 

Condell.    But  jests  aside,  the  fellow  has  good  parts; 
He's  quite  a  man  of  business  by  the    way; 
From  minding  one  horse  for  some  "blood"  one  night, 
He  now  has  charge  of  twenty  at  a  show, 
And,  ha,  ha,  ha,  sublets  those  he  can't  hold 
To  boys,  reserving  him  a  goodly  profit. 

Burbage.     What  does  he  do  when  not  employed  by 
day? 


69 

Perhaps,  it  would  be  just  as  well  if  we 

Kept  eye  upon  this  Stratford  prodigy 

And  gave  him  aught  to  do,  to  train  his  wit. 

Heminge.     I   believe  myself  the  man   does  like  the 

show, 

To  judge  from  the  alacrity  with  which 
He  squeezed  his  belly  into  Kempe's  doublet. 

CondelL     He  has  some  mettle,  I'll  be  bold  to  say 
And  rare  Ben  Jonson  tells  me,  by  the  way, 
The  rogue  has  wit;  is  good  at  repartee, 
And  wants  but  polish  to  be  made  of  use. 
Let's  send  for  him,  and  if  he  is  about, 
We'll  put  the  screws  to  this  phenomenon 
To  better  judge  the  manner  of  the  man. 

[Calls]  Ho,  boy. 

Enter  BOY. 

Go  out  about  the  sheds  near  by  and  see 
If  you  can  find  that  Stratford  lad  about; 
Him  of  the  paunch,  that  dabbles  in  small  fees 
That  he  collects  for  holding  horses,  nights, 
An  if  you  find  him,  ask  him  to  come  here ; 
We  would  have  speech  with  him  on  his  affairs. 

Boy.    I  saw  him  cross  the  courtyard  even  now. 
1*11  have  him  with  you  in  a  moment's  time. 

Burbage.    Make  haste,  me  boy,  I  have  not  long  to 
wait 

[Exit  Boy. 

An  that  reminds  me,  I  have  long  intended 
To  get  a  man  or  two  of  likely  mien 
To  act  as  roustabout    and  thus  pick  up 
The  manner  of  our  way  and  so  fall  to. 

Heminge.    Beware  thee,  Burbage,  the  immensive  cost 
Of  cloth  to  cover  such  a  swelling  bulk. 

CondelL    Enough  of  that ;  the  lad  may  toe  our  mark. 
No  jesting,  Heminge,  for  here  comes  our  man. 
Enter  SHAXPER. 

Burbage.     Step   hither,    Shaxper,   I,   and   these   my 

friends 
Have  had  some  words  respecting  thy  employ— 


Heminge.     That  is,  if  thy  engagements  at  the  sheds 
Allow  thee  time  to  waste  upon  our  whim. 

Condell.    Mayhap  'twill  be  the  making  of  thy  fortune, 
If  time  and  tide  are  running  to  thy  taste. 

Shax.    T  would  satisfy  me  greatly,  gentlemen, 
To  enter  your  employ  upon  such  terms 
As  tend  to  hold  me  harmless  of  all  loss 
Respecting  income  such  as  I  enjoy 
Whilst  being  master  of  my  every  movement 
Barring  the  burden  of  responsibility 
I  owe  to  those  who  pay  me. 
Fact  is,  good  sirs,  I  want  my  keep, 
Besides  the  extra  shillings  I  may  earn. 

Burbage.    Well  spoken  for  a  lad  so  lately  come 
To  this  great  city  here  to  make  thy  way 
An  if  it  please  thee  to  attend  us  here 
We'll  see  that  terms  are  made  to  suit  thy  case. 

Heminge.    That  is,  of  course,  if  our  exchequer  will 
Allow,  to  cover  what  your  fees  now  are. 

Condell.     Hast  thou  made  computation  of  the  sum, 
Or  else  need'st  time  for  more  consideration? 

Shax.     My  income  has  not  reached  to  that  amount 
But  what  my  fingers  well  could  entertain 
To  act  as  compters.    Thus,  to  cut  it  short, 
Furnish  me  clothing,  food  and  lodging, 
And  five  good  shillings  of  the  realm 
As  weekly  stipend  for  my  time  and  service. 
And,  to  repeat,  I  want  my  keep. 

Burbage.    What  say  you  ?  Heminge,  aye  the  lad  speaks 
well. 

Heminge.    We'll  make  it  six  per  week  his  manner 
earned  it. 

Condell.     I'll  add  a  shilling  from  my  private  purse 
To  bring  thee  luck,  my  Stratford  pioneer! 

Shax.    Your  kindness,  gentlemen,  takes  me  by  storm. 
I'll  straight  arrange  my  matters  at  the  sheds, 
And  relegate  my  business  to  the  boys 
That  lately  have  assisted  me  o'nights. 
[Aside.}    But  I'll  reserve  a  goodly  share,  no  fear 


SHAXPER  OF  STRATFORD 
as  "Falstaff." 


RESOLUTE  JOHN  FLORIO 


RICHARD  BURBAGE. 


To  cover  extras  for  my  sack  and  beer. 

Burbage.     Tis  well,  me  lad,  and  as  thou  servest  us 
So  will  we  show  appreciation  for  it. 
Heminge.     Keep  worry  from  thy  mind  and  have  a 
care 

To  read  somewhat  of  that  I'll  send  to  thee; 
A  little  polish  is  most  needed  here 
And  leads  to  prompt  advancement. 
Condell  Then,  Shaxper,  take  this  trifle  here  from  me; 

[Hands  him  purse.] 

'Tis  merely  an  advance  upon  thy  wage. 
It  may  be  helpful  in  thy  severance 
From  old  employ. 

Burbage.    Well  done,  Condell,  I  had  not  thought  of  it. 
Heminge.    Nor  I,  and  for  this  seeming  slight, 
I  do  propose  that  we  forget  the  deed 
And  may  the  lad  prove  worthy  of  the  purse. 
Burbage  and  I  will  square  thee. 
Condell.    I  knew  your  hearts,  my  friends,  you  know 
I  did. 

Enter  BOY. 
What  is  it,  boy? 

Boy.    A  valet  here  in  lace  and  velvet 
Seeks  Master  Shaxper  and  would  speak  with  him. 
Shax.     How,  speak  with  me?  then  pardon,  gentle- 
men, 

Till  I  enquire  what  this  valet  wants. 
'Tis  well  he  came  upon  me  even  now. 
My  heart  is  full,  too  full  for  words  of  thanks 
For  your  most  noble  generosity! 
I  will  report  anon. 

[Boy  and  Shax  Ex-it. 
Burbage.     I    like   the    way   the    fellow    mouths   his 

speech. 

He  shows  appreciation  to  the  full, 
An  I  am  taken  with  the  manner  of  it. 

Heminge.     With   little   management   upon   our   part 
We'll  make  him  valuable  to  our  needs. 
'Zounds!  Since  closer  view  of  his  proportions 


72 

His  size  has  shrunk  somewhat,  what  say  you,  Condell? 

Condell.    Twas  all  imagination  on  your  part; 
I  liked  the  lad  when  first  I  spoke  with  him 
And  feel  we  all  have  done  the  proper  thing 
To  close  with  him,  hsh !  here  he  comes. 

Enter  SHAXPER. 

What  now,  my  lad;  thy  puzzled  look 
Betokens  interruptions  unexpected,  speak! 

Shax.    The  Earl  Southampton  sends  to  ask  my  pres- 
ence. 

Enter  LORD  SIDNEY,  (Stands  at  a  Distance  Unobserved.) 
To  have  some  speech  with  me, 
His  valet  is  to  bring  me  on  the  way. 

Burbage.    Make  haste  to  go,  my  lad,  I  wish  thee  luck; 
But  we'd  be  loth  to  lose  thee  e'er  we  had  thee. 

Shax.    Fear  not,  good  sirs,  I'm  your's,  my  word  upon 

it, 

Whate'er  the  message,  'twill  not  interfere; 
I  shall  return  within  the  next  two  hours. 

[Exit  Shax. 

Sidney,     (approaching) 
Pardon  me,  gentlemen,  what  play  to-night  ? 

Burbage.    'Twill  be  the  second  part  of  the  Contention. 
Have  you  bespoke  your  seat? 

Sidney.    'Tis  well,  I  and  my  party  will  attend. 

[Exit  Burbage,  Heminge  and  Condell. 
That  is  if  in  the  meantime  I  can  make  discovery 
Of  what  Southampton  wants  with  that  fat  man. 
Strange  goings  on,  milord,  but  never  fear 
The  facts  will  out,  and  straightway  to  the  Queen. 

CURTAIN. 


SCENE  III. 

Room  in  Drury  House 
Enter  LADY  VERNON  and  LADY  SIDNEY  with  the  EARL  OF 

ESSEX. 
Essex.    Fair    Cousin    Vernon,    and    you,    my    Lady 


73 

Sidney, 

Here  will  we  bide  until  milord  return. 
Southampton,  whom  I  met  at  court  this  morning, 
Advised  me  that  young  Rutland  hath  arrived 
And  makes  his  stay  here  in  Southampton  House, 
The  while  he  doth  intend  to  spend  in  London. 

Lady  Sid.    I'm   curious    to    meet    this   hero    knight, 

Essex, 

My  almost  parent,  and  my  heart  doth  quicken 
That  now  the  'fillment  of  my  wish  approaches; 
Pitti  pat,  pitti  pat,  hear  it,  my  lord? 

Lady  Ver.    You  silly  girl,  to  speak  so  of  a  man 
Whom  you  have  never  met,  and  know 
The  likelihood  of  sharing  his  estates. 
Because,  forsooth,  the  Queen  is  for  the  match. 

Essex.    So  'tis  resolved,  my  charming  little  daughter 
And  happy  will  you  be  with  such  a  man ; 
Studious  and  not  pedantic;  witty  sans  vulgarity: 
A  gentleman  bred  in  the  bone  and  with  an  income 
A  King  might  envy ! 

Lady  Sid.    La,  la,  but,  an  he  were  not  nice — that  is — to 

me 
And  I  should  pinch  him,  what  would  he  do  then? 

Lady  Ver.    Tush,  Bessie,  do  not  act  so  skittish. 
You  are  so  volatile,  you  flippant  miss; 
Be  more  sedate  when  first  you  meet  my  lord; 
For  first  impressions,  sweetheart,  always  are 
So  prone  to  form  opinions  most  unjust. 
Don't  start  with  plagueing  and  then  fall  to  pinching; 
I  could  not  act  to  my  Southampton  so. 
He  is  too  fiery  withal  and  might  resent  it 

Lady  Sidney.    I  cannot  change  my  nature,  mistress 

Vernon, 

I  do  not  care  a  straw  for  any  man, 
Especially  this  clever  Padua  student 
Who  has  an  answer  pat  for  every  question, 
According  to  Lord  Essex  here,  who  knows  him ; 
Should  my  lord  Rutland  feel  my  dart; — resent  it — 
Indeed,  dear  Bess,— I'd  make  milord  repent  it. 


74 

Essex.    Come  ladies,  here  milords  approach : 
Lady  Sid.    Shall  I  be  meek — quote  poetry  to  him 
Remember,  Bessie,  first  impressions  last. 
Or  sit  and  wait  until  you  do  present  him? 
Lady  Ver.    Be  natural,  Bessie,  do,  you  silly  girl. 
Essex.    Bessie,  come  kiss  me,  now  be  good,  my  dear. 
I  hear  some  steps  approaching. 

Lady  Sid.    Tis  well,  milord ;  ah,  O  my  heart  be  still  1 
For,  if  you  don't,  you  know  I  never  will. 

Enter  SOUTHAMPTON  and  RUTLAND. 
Southampton.    Welcome,  fair  ladies,  here  I  bring  this 

phoenix 

Just  risen  from  the  ashes — clip  his  wing. 
Essex.    Southampton  you  look  charming,  and  dear 

Roger, 
Welcome  to  London.    Have  you  been  to  court? 

Rutland.    Just  as  a  formal  duty  to  my  queen,  milord, 
But  I  shall  hope  to  see  you  there  quite  often. 

Lady  Ver.    At  least  I  need  no  presentation,  Rutland, 
For  we  have  met  before. 
Rutland.    Of  course,  but  then  your  marvelous  beauty, 

lady, 

Shone  at  another  angle;  then  I  was  stunned; 
But  now  I  am  bewitched. 
Southampton.    Waste  not  your  words,  good  Rutland, 

on  my  Vernon. 
You'll  need  them  all  to  praise  this  fairest  bud. 

(Presenting  LADY  SIDNEY.) 

Lady  Sid.    A  rose,  milord,  and  O,  so  many  thorns 
Rutland.     Fie,  lady  Sidney,  why  do  yon  remind  me. 
Now  placed  in  the  predicament  of  Paris 
That  I  might  get  my  fingers  sorely  pricked. 

Lady  Ver.    O,  good  milord,  do  not  be  harsh  upon  her. 
See  she  repents.    But,  is  she  not  a  beauty? 
Tho  my  lord  Henry  leans  toward  my  style. 

Essex.     Southampton,  come,  now  when  is  it  to  be. 
The  path  must  be  made  smooth  for  milord  Rutland. 
Southampton.    Ha,  ha,  good  Essex,  you  must  ask  the 
Queen 


75 

Who  carries  my  affairs  with  a  high  hand. 

Essex.    'Twill  all  come  right  in  time,  rely  on  Essex. 
Now,  ladies,  will  you  join  me  to  the  green  room? 
Milord  Southampton  and  my  Rutland  here 
Are  pre-engaged  to  meet  Sir  Francis  Bacon, 
Upon  important  matters  at  this  hour. 
Southampton.    We'll  follow  you  as  soon  as  we  are 

through. 

Rutland.    Fair  lady  Sidney  and  milady  Vernon 
The  time  will  drag  until  we  meet  again. 
So  au  revoir — we  shall  not  keep  you  waiting. 
Lady  Ver.    We  haste  away  so  we  may  sooner  meet. 
Lady  Sid.    Your  arm,  my  father,  au  revoir  milords. 

[Exeunt  Ladies  Vernon,  Sidney  and  Lord  Essex. 
Southampton.    What   think   you   of    milady   Sidney, 

Rutland? 

A  charming  girl  and  with  a  mind  of  gold 
The  image  of  Sir  Philip,  her  late  father — 
Her  mother  long  since  marrying  Lord  Essex 
Elizabeth  stands  very  fair  to  be 
The  foremost  lady  at  Queen  Bess's  Court 
The  Queen  adores  her  and  you  know  you're  quite  a 

favorite  with  her  today. 

Rutland.    I  do  assure  you,  my  dear  Wriothesly 
I  am  bewitched  with  the  young  daughter  of  England's 

pride,  the  late  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 
Tho  this  my  heart  within  warns  me  'gainst  marriage. 

Southampton.    Tut,  tut,  my  boy,  so  say  they  all  until—- 
But, here's  Sir  Francis  now,  and  someone  with  him 
Discrete  now  Rutland,  we'll  not  speak  thy  name. 

Enter  BACON  with  SHAXPER. 
Good  morrow,  Bacon,  an  whom  have  we  here? 
Bacon.    The  man  we  spoke  of,  out  of  Warwickshire 

(to  Shaxper.) 

This,  master  Shaxper,  is  milord  Southampton 
Who  would  have  speech  with  thee  as  you're  aware 

And  this 

Southampton.    Is  milord  Roger  who  seeks  some  aid  in 
his  affairs; 


76 

The  rendering  of  which  may  carry  profit. 

Shax.     Milords,  I  fear  me  that  you  are  too  late, 
For,  as  your  valet  came  to  fetch  me  here 
My  time  was  preengaged  across  the  river. 

Rutland.    That  will  not  brook  my  purpose  in  the  least 
The  service  that  I  wish  you  render  me 
Requires  nor  time  nor  labor  on  thy  part — 

Shax.    The  matter  standing  thus,  you  can  command 
me. 

Rutland.    I  wish  to  put  a  secret  in  thy  head 
And  lock  thy  mouth  with  golden  bars ! 
The  secret  is  a  name  unknown  to  thee, 
And  must  not  be  divulged  on  pain  of  death 
In  payment  for  this  privilege  thou  givest, 
I  will  present  thee  with  one  thousand  pounds, 
In  such  amounts,  and  at  such  periods 
As  we  agree  upon  if  now  we  close. 

Shax.    An  doth  my  carrying  this  monstrous  load 
Endanger  life  or  limb,  or ha!— the  Tower? 

Rutland.    Not  if  thou  keepest  counsel  with  thyself  ! 

Shax.    Prepare  the  oath  that  I  may  swear  and  sign  it 

Rutland.     Pray  walk  aside  with  me,  my  man. 
Pardon,  my  friends. 

[They  go  to  far  corner  of  room. 

Southampton.    A   likely    fellow,    Bacon,   what   think 
you? 

Bacon.    Methinks  the  man  might  answer  Rutland's 

purpose : 

His  speech  is  fair,  his  mind  seems  virgin  still 
To  the  allurements  of  this  boisterous  city — 
'Twere  dangerous  did  the  man  not  hold  aloof — 

Southampton.    We   have   considered    of   the   matter 

well, 

And  Rutland  doth  agree  with  me  in  this; 
That,  to  secure  the  keeping  of  the  secret, 
Allurements  other  than  of  jingling  coin 
Must  hold  the  man  we  choose  in  check — 
That  is  the  matter  now  he's  laboring  with 
And  I  do  hope  agreement  may  be  met — 


77 

Bacon.     I  have  made  further  inquiry  of  Burbage, 
And  he  informs  me  that  this  Stratford  man 
Hath  some  ambition  in  the  way  of  honors. 

Southampton.    How  honors,  what  by  that  would  you 
imply  ? 

Bacon.     Perhaps  'twas  but  the  idle  dream  of  fancy 
That  came  to  him  upon  his  Stratford  straw ; 
'Twould  seem    ridiculous  in  a  city  bred, 
But  you,  milord,  can  understand  a  mind 
Fantastic  in  its  nature ;  fed  on  dreams 
Doth  harbor  visions. 

Southampton.    And — 

Bacon.    He  aims  to  be  a  "gentleman"  by  patent. 

Southampton.    Were  he  of  family  that  could  stand 

the  test, 
The  matter  might  be  easily  arranged — 

Bacon.    His  mother  was  an  Arden,  and  his  father 
A  Councilman  or  Alderman  at  Stratford. 

Southampton.    A    likely    soil    to    set    this    shrub   to 

sprout 
In  reasonable  time  a  gentleman. 

Bacon.    No  doubt  they're  speaking  of  the  matter  now 
And  by  appearance  of  his  countenance 
Twould  seem  the  subject  hath  the  wished  direction. 

Southampton.  Upon  my  word. 

He's  taking  Rutland  by  the  hand! 
Tis  well,  I  like  it  much,  this  apt  allurement, 
Tis  far  more  potent  than  a  threat  or  gold! 

Rutland,     (approaching.} 

The  thing  looks  well  Southampton  'pon  my  word 
I  have  his  oath,  by  word  of  mouth  as  yet, 
But  'twill  suffice  for  the  preliminary 
Parchments  in  regular  order  will  be  signed 
Anon,  as  soon  as  such  can  be  prepared — 

Bacon.    An  with  your  leave  I  will  assist  the  diction, 

Southampton.    Tell  me,  in  short,  to  what  have  you 
agreed. 

Rutland.    Primo:    Whatever   plays    I    render   to   be 
acted 


7« 

Are  to  bear  signature  split  by  double  hyphen 
Thus  "Shake,   (and  break),  then  "speare,"  hyphen  be- 
tween. 

He  to  allow  the  public  to  assume — mark  well  assume — 
That  he's  the  author;  but  not  to  claim  that  honor 
By  writ  or  word  of  mouth.    In  fact  he  is 
To  weave  a  shroud  of  mystery  so  deftly 
That  all  the  world  may  think  him  to  be  author — 
No  word  of  his  will  ever  prove  it  so — 
Further:  He's  under  oath  to  carry 
The  deception    in  face  of  all  his  actor  people — 
Become  a  partner  there  and  furnish  plays 
With  which  I  shall  supply  him 
And  other  details  as  I  will  have  writ. 

Southampton.    Then  you,  on  your  part,  do  agree 

Rutland.    To  furnish  him  first  with  One  Thousand 

Pounds. 

To  be  so  paid  to  him,  and  at  such  times 
As  the  amounts  required  will  be  needed 
Some  one  to  act  the  paymaster  for  me 
I  placing  him  in  funds. 

Then  use  my  influence  with  good  Queen  Bess 
To  press  his  claim  to  have  a  coat  of  arms. 

Southampton.    Ha,  ha,  I  thought  as  much,  I  under- 
stand— 

Bacon.    'Twill  bind  the  contract  faster  than  all  gold ! 
Enter  LORD  SIDNEY. 

Southampton.    Ha !  here  is  Sidney,  wonder  what  HE 

wants ! 

His  manner  likes  me  not.     This  coming  in 
So  unannounced  smacks  of  deceit. 
How  now,  my  lord,  what  be  your  pleasure? 

Sidney.     Pardon  intrusion,  good  milords  I  came  this 

way 
Thinking  to  meet  Lord  Essex  hereabouts. 

Southampton.    You'll  find  him  in  the  green  room  I 

presume, 
He  went  that  way  some  twenty  minutes  since. 

Sidney.    With  your  permission  I  will  seek  him  there. 


79 

Again  I  beg  your  pardon  for  intrusion. 

[SIDNEY  Exit. 

Southampton.    An  uncle  of  vivacious  lady  Sidney; 
More's  the  pity;  for  I  do  not  like  the  man. 
He  slavers  o'er  the  foot  stool  of  the  Queen 
And  pushes  his  ambition  in  a  manner 
That  creaks  upon  the  back  stairs  in  the  dark, 
Keyholes  are  friendly  to  his  enterprise. 
We  must  be  careful  what  we  are  about 
When  such  as  he  draws  near. 
I  like  him  not — but  Family!  Family — O! 

Rutland.    Good  master  Bacon,  go  you  with  my  man, 
And  see  about  the  parchment  in  the  library; 
Southampton  and  myself  must  join  the  ladies 
But  I'll  be  with  you  in  a  quarter  hour. 

[All  Exeunt  Severally. 
Re-enter  SIDNEY. 

Sidney.     So  Rutland  hath  much  time  to  give  South- 
ampton, 

And  fifteen  minutes  but  to  spare  the  Queen — 
And  you  my  haughty  Lord  Southampton,  poof! 
Remember  that  a  Sidney  don't  forget. 
You  wish  to  marry  with  milady  Vernon; 
But  know  not  of  a  certain  Willoughby 
Who,  were  he  minded  so,  might  jar  thy  match ; 
I'll  bring  the  information  to  thy  ears 
Without  its  source  appearing. 
Let  me  alone  for  getting  square  with  thee! 
Fve  still  to  know  about  this  heavy  man 
Who  seems  to  interest  milords  so  much. 
The  Queen  must  have  her  gossip,  gossip,  gossip! 

CURTAIN. 


SCENE  IV.    Globe  Theatre. 
Enter  Two  Stable  Boys. 

i.    S.  B.    We're  made,  me  boy,  we'll  soon  be  bloated 
peers, 


So 

If  this  holds  out  with  Shasper's  pretty  job 
We'll  know  not  what  to  do  with  all  our  money! 
2.    S.  B.     I'll  know  what  I'll  do,  I'll  be  bound,  me 

honey — 

I'll  eat  six  good  square  meals  each  blessed  day; 
Chew  calomel  between  to  make  more  room 
I  live  to  eat,  just  bet  I  know  what's  good 
What's  money  good  for  lest  it  be  for  food. 

1.  S.  B.    I'll  stuff  as  well,  as  much  as  I  can  stow; 
But  that's  not  all,  me  boy,  I'd  have  you  know 

The  first  day  that  I  get  my  little  pile, 

I'll  to  the  Mermaid  for  a  good  long  sleep; 

And  as  I  take  my  room  I'll  order  Boots 

To  wake  me  when  the  clock  strikes  at  sharp  six! 

2.  S.  B.     Why  should  you  have  him  get  you  up  so 
early  ? 

1.  S.  B.    An  who  said  aught  about  my  getting  up? 
I'd  let  him  call  me — but  I'd  answer  him: 

"Get  out,  ye  dog ;  get  out,  yet  scurvy  cur ! 
Why  should  a  man  with  coin  be  bothered  so? 
Get  out!    I'll  throw  the  bootjack  at  thy  head!" 

2.  S.  B.  What  good  would  all  that  be  to  ye,  ye  clown  ? 
/.    5*.  B.  To  let  him  know  I  was  a  gentleman ; 

To   sleep   as   long  as   gentlemen   are   wont — 
To  be  a  gentleman  you've  got  to  sleep ! 
2  S.  B.    You  mean  to  say  that  gentlemen  don't  eat? 
j.  5".  B.    But  only  Thursh  eggs  and  such  dainty  stuff, 
You'd  have  to  eat  a  peck  to  get  enough! 

2.  S.  B.    'Twas  mighty  nice  that  Shaxper  threw  the 

job — 

/.  5.  B.    An'  let  us  have  it  as  he  did.    B'Jove! 
2.  S.  B.    Who'd  think  that  Warwickshire  grew  bloods 
like  that! 

[Exeunt  Stable  Boys. 
Enter  SHAXPER. 

Shax.     Since  fate  will  buckle  fortune  on  my  back 
To  bear  the  burden  without  playing  for  it 
I  must  have  patience  to  endure  the  load. 
Here  hath  fate  stewed  a  pretty  mess  for  me; 


8i 

I've  sold  myself ;  am  tied  down  hard  and  fast, 

Tho'  much  enlarged  the  field  of  my  activity. 

I  am  myself  no  more.    I  am  another's! 

And  acting  in  his  name;  by  oath  I'm  bound 

Not  to  admit  those  labors  in  my  name 

Nor  to  deny  my  compilation ! 

Tho'  I  have  gained  fulfillment  of  my  dreams, 

Have  wealth  to  bolster  up  my  sunken  fortune, 

"Tis  dearly  bought  since  I  have  sold  myself 

To  be  the  living  pen-name  of  an  author 

Who  by  past  works  hath  set  the  town  astir; 

To  be  obliged  to  face  my  benefactors; 

Give  them  new  plays  as  though  they  were  mine  own; 

'Tis  a  great  load  to  bear. 

Sit  and  make  merry  with  the  cities'  wits ; 

Take  flattery  from  them ;  congratulations ; 

That  sound  like  hollow  mockery  to  me, 

And  then  be  under  oath  to  not  admit 

The  point,  nor  yet,  doing  the  work 

To  nourish  seeming  probability 

And  to  be  gay  withal! 

To  strictly  guard  the  scrawl  of  my  fat  hand 

That  prying  eyes  get  not  to  know  it — 

This  is  a  burden  that  would  break  the  back 

Of  any  ordinary  mortal ! 

The  deed  is  done  and  I  have  made  my  bed 

Tho  stuffed  with  downs,  unutterably  hard! 

Then  in  the  waking  moments,  ere  sleep  comes, 

The  gloat  of  that  curst  master  wit  above  me 

Weaving  fantastic  dreams! 

My  word  is  given,  under  oath,  and  signed 

And,  ha,  I  had  almost  forgot  the  wierdest  clause: 

That  at  the  first  infringement  of  my  word, 

Myself — my  flesh  and  bones  will  disappear 

As  if  by  magic — 

Kidnapped  or  murdered  in  cold  blood ! 

In  manner  that  no  living  man  may  know 

My  miserable  fate — ! 

Three  separate  plays  have  I  for  the  approval 


82 

Of  my  most  dear  and  newly  gotten  friends. 
How  to  suggest  the  matter  and  explain 
How  I  came  by  them — still  requires  invention. 
Fate  brought  me  fortune — then  let  fate  devise 
The  means  by  which  to  hold  it! 

Enter  PEMBROKE. 

This  gentleman  was  at  Southampton  House 
When  last  I  came  away.     Good  morrow,  sir. 

Pemb.    Good  morrow  master  Shaxper  and  well  met — 
Milord  Southampton  fears  that  you  may  find 
Some  difficulty  in  the  presentation 
Of  your  first  manuscript  in  such  a  manner 
As  to  allay  suspicion. 

Where  can  I  find  good  master  Burbage  now? 
I  would  have  speech  with  him. 

Shax.    He's  in  the  house,  milord,  I'll  go  an  fetch 
him — 

Pemb.    I  will  arrange  that  Burbage  asks  no  question, 
When  you  present  your  manuscripts, 
And  when  you  do  present  them,  act  so  so; 
Using  but  simple  speech — 
Say,  "there  is  somewhat  that  perchance 
"May  interest  you.    Master  Burbage,  read  it 
"An  if  it  suit  you  and  your  theatre 
"Produce  it — without  recompense  to  me. 
"I  owe  you  much  and  I  am  happy,  sir, 
"That  thus  I  can  requite  it" — Say  no  more. 

Shax.    An  when  he  doth  reply? 

Pemb.    Retort  in  commonplace.    Go  now  and  fetch 
him, 

But  do  not  thou  return we'll  meet  anon. 

[Exit  Shax. 

An  if  suspicion  chance  to  fall  on  me 
To  be  the  author,  'twill  be  a  simple  matter  to  deny! 
The  word  of  Pembroke  never  will  be  doubted. 

Enter  BURBAGE. 

Ha,  master  Burbage,  sir  I  wish  you  well ! 
And  beg  the  privilege  of  some  words  with  you. 

Burbage.    Milord  of  Pembroke,  sir,  you  do  me  honor 


83 

To  favor  such  as  me  with  your  commands. 

Pemb.    Tis  but  to-day  report  made  known  to  me 
You  have  one  Shaxper  here  in  your  employ. 
He  comes  from  Stratford  up  in  Warwickshire. 
And  I  have  heard  that  he  doth  carry 
A  very  weighty  matter  in  his  head. 
He  is  a  genius  of  peculiar  order, 
And  will  not  trust  himself  to  loose  hit  mouth. 
I  ask  thee,  as  a  patron  of  your  house, 
To  not  be  taken  with  astonishment 
If  this  same  man  to  further  his  ambition 
Doth  put  thee  on  the  road  to  fortune — 
Whatever  he  may  have  to  say  to  you, 
Pry  not  into  the  working  of  his  mind — 
'Twould  likely  cause  a  hemorrhage,  even  death. 

Burbage.    'Tis  strange,  I  felt,  since  first  I  saw  the 

man, 
That  there  was  somewhat  back  of  that  great  bulk. 

Pemb.    Well,  to  be  short,  'tis  so ! 
Then,  further,  Master  Burbage,  so  instruct 
Thy  partners,  Masters  Heminge  and  Condell, 
To  act  upon  the  hint  I've  given  thee. 
A  failure  on  thy  part,  good  Master  Burbage 
To  follow  instructions  to  the  word 
Would  cause  me  sorrow. 

Burbage.     O,  rest  content,  commands  of  milord  Pem- 
broke 
Are  law  to  me  and  also  to  my  partners! 

Pemb.    Farewell  then,  that  was  all  I  had  to  say. 

[Exit  Pembroke. 

Burbage.    I  always  felt  a  strange  effect  come  o'er  me 
When  this  fat  Stratford  man  gave  me  his  eye. 

Enter  HEMINGE. 

Milord  of  Pembroke  hath  just  left  me,  Heminge, 
And  told  me  things  that  will  surprise  thee  much : 
This  lad  from  Warwickshire  may  prove  a  mine 
If  we  but  let  the  fellow  have  free  rein. 

Heminge.    Pve  felt  so  ever  since  I  spoke  with  him 
And  build  great  hopes  upon  him;  but  what  now? 


84 

Burbage.    There's  something  queer  about  him  milord 

tells  me— 

He'll  stand  no  prying  into  his  affairs. 
And  then  his  lordship  further  cautioned  me, 
And  you  and  Condell  also  are  included, 
To  look  upon  his  actions  and  his  words 
As  natural  output  of  his  eccentricity. 
Be  guarded  therefore  in  thy  speech  with  him 
An  above  all,  ask  him  no  idle  questions, 
And  we  must  not  omit  instructing  Condell. 
Heminge.    'Tis  well,  hsh !  here  comes  Shaxper  now. 
Shax.     Pray,  gentlemen,  a  moment  of  your  time 
I  have  here  somewhat  that  perchance  may  please  you 
Read  it  an  if  it  please,  make  use  of  it 
Without  a  thought  of  recompense  to  me. 

(Gives  Burbage  Mss.} 
Much  do  I  owe  you  and  this  opportunity 
Gives  me  the  greatest  pleasure  I  can  feel 
To,  in  a  measure,  make  up  for  your  goodness! 
Burbage.    Why,  Master  Shaxper,  an  what  have  we 

here — 

Some  verses   written  on   some  pretty  lady? 
Heminge.    Or  something  we  can  put  upon  the  boards  ? 
Shax.     Read  it,  kind  gentlemen,  an  when  you've  done 
Judge  if  the  manner  of  my  thanks  run  straight. 
I  must  away  to  meet  my  good  friend  Jonson, 
Who  waiteth  my  arrival  at  the  inn. 

[Exit  Shax. 
Burbage.    Strange     fellow    that!    what    think    you, 

Heminge  ? 
Heminge.    Let's  see,  what  have  we  here  that  he  has 

left. 

Burbage.     (opening  bundle  Mss.) 
Phew !  "A  history  of  our  gracious  King 
Henry  the  Fourth,  containing  also 
The  antics  of  one  Falstaff.' 

Heminge.    That  sounds  well — How  is  it  arranged? 
Burbage.     We'll  presently  look  into  this  new  play. 
Now  what  is  this  "The  Merry  Wives  of 


KING  JAMES  I. 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 


THE  TOWER  OF  LONDON.  r 


85 

Windsor,  or  Falstaff  when  in  love. 

Heminge.    Another    play,    B'    Jove!    what     next,    I 

wonder  ? 

Burbage.  Then  here  is  one  entitled 

"The  History  of  King  Henry  the  Fifth. 
The  death  of  Falstaff." 
Heminge.    An  if  these  plays  are  good  we've  struck  a 

mine 

Let  us  examine  them  more  closely  in  our  closet 
Where  Condell  is  now  working  on  some  play. 
Burbage.    Strange  things  come  out  of  Warwickshire, 
good  Heminge ! 

Heminge.     Strange,  strange 

[Both  Exit. 

Enter  PEMBROKE  and  SHAXPER. 
Pemb.    As  I  was  saying,  Master  Shaxper,  mark  me: 
Things  go  as  merry  as  a  village  wedding! 
'Tis  well  I  met  thee  going  forth  just  now— 
For  I  had  something  in  my  doublet  here 
That  I  forgot  to  give  thee  here  before. 

(hands  him  Mss.) 

Shax.    Am  I  to  read  this  or  just  turn  it  over 
To  my  good  masters  at  the  playhouse  here  ? 
Pemb.    'Tis  meant  for  them;  but  then  there  is  no 

reason 

Why  thou  shouldst  not  peruse  it  at  thy  leisure. 
That  is,  of  course,  if  thou  hast  learned  to  read 
Take  best  care  of  it— I  must  away. 

(Exit  Pemb. 

Shax.  (Putting  Mss.  in  breast  of  doublet) 
Another  one !  They're  coming  rather  fast 
But  then,  I'm  in  for  it,  so  let  them  come ! 
The  more  the  merrier,  say  I,  good  milords! 
But  I  must  study  at  my  alphabet 
For   reading  is   important  to  me  now* 

Enter  SIDNEY. 

Holloh!  you  here  again?    What  may  he  want, 
Sidney.    My   man,   hast   seen   lord    Pembroke  here- 
abouts ? 


86 

Shax.    That  were  for  me  to  know,  but  not  to  say  I 
Sidney.    How  now,  sirrah!     Make  answer 
Shax.    I'll  go  within — an  see  if  he  is  there 

(aside)   an  this  rough  ape  can  wait  till  I  return 

to-morrow! 

[Exit  Shax. 
Sidney.    Now  what  could  Pembroke  want  around  this 

place 

I  saw  him  coming  forth — I  must  discover! 
I've  put  a  flea  in  good  Queen  Bessie's  ear; 
An  that  flea  feedeth  more  than  I  can  serve 
Voracious  rascal  that! 

That  bumpkin  returneth  not — perhaps  he  won't — 
All  right — my  man — another  for  my  book! 
CURTAIN. 


ACT   II. 
SCENE  I.    Room  in  Dniry  House. 

Enter  ESSEX  and  SOUTHAMPTON. 

Essex.    Whoever  brought  you  such  a  monstrous  tale 
Deserves  to  have  the  hide  stripped  from  his  carcass, 
An,  I  for  one,  shall  never  bend  my  ear 
To  idle  gossip  that  involves  a  lady! 
Southampton.    Nor  am  I  prone  to  stoop  to  such  a 

thing, 

Dishonorable  alike  to  one  who  hears  and  believes 
Without  enlightenment  or  evidence, — as  the  supposed  of- 
fender ! 

Essex.    Dismiss  the  matter  from  your  mind,  South- 
ampton, 

It  is  unseemly  in  a  gentleman 
To  harbor  thoughts  offending  Lady  Vernon. 


87 

Milord,  give  me  the  name  of  the  informant 
An  as  I  am  an  Essex,  the  dog  dies ! 

Southampton,     In  that  I  do  agree  with  noble  Essex. 
Find  me  the  cur  an  I,  myself,  would  kill  him ! 
'Twere  but  to  free  the  world  of  such  a  pest; 
The  coward  cur  hath  placed  a  scurvy  note 
Where  'twould  not  fail  to  meet  my  jealous  eye ! 

Essex.    Unsigned,  of  course,  the  traitor!  show  the 

script ; 
Perchance  I  know  the  manner  of  the  hand. 

Southampton.    I  pinned  it  on  the  point  of  my  Toledo, 
And  cast  it  in  the  fire — 
Considering  its  source  I  had  dispelled 
All  thought 

Until  to-day  I  met  with  Willoughby 
Who,  by  his  manner,   making  enquiry 
Of  the  well-being  of  my  Lady  Vernon, 
Aroused  anew  suspicion  in  my  heart. 

Essex.    Of  course,  we  can't  blame  Willoughby  in  this 
Not  knowing  your  relations  with  milady! 

Enter  RUTLAND,  LADY  VERNON  and  LADY  SIDNEY. 

Rutland.    'Tis  vile,  Southampton,  that  you  so  forget 
That  which  you  owe  yourself  and  this  fair  lady! 
Anonymous  at  that — 'Tis  simply  monstrous ! 

Lady  Ver.    Forbear,  dear  Rutland,  my  poor  heart  is 

cracked 

Do  not  upbraid,  my  lord,  for  unkind  words 
Will  shatter  all  to  fragments— Oh,  forbear. 

Lady  Sid.    Fair  cousin  heed  him  not.    Why  should, 

forsooth 

A  guiltless  conscience  give  you  needless  pain ; 
We  all,  thy  truest  friends,  love  thee  the  more! 

Southampton.  O,  What  care  I ! 

The  slightest  breath  of  scandal  overwhelms  me! 

Rutland.    The  best  of  us  can't  guard  against  such 

curs. 
The  traiterous  backstairs  coward! 

Essex.    Southampton,  if  thou  havest  faith  in  me, 
Record  my  oath  that  I  will  right  this  thing ! 


88 

Rutland.    An  I'll  devote  my  life  to  the  discovery — 

Lady  Ver.    Milord  forbear! 

Lady  Sid.    Come,  cousin,  walk  with  me. 

[Exit  Both  Ladies. 

Southampton.    Rutland   and    Essex,   you — you    fully 

believe 

That  I  should  be  the  last  to  think  it  true 
That  Willoughby  hath  sinned  against  milady. 
'Tis  the  suspicion  undeserved  that  knocks 
And  time  alone  will  even  up  my  temper ; 
You,  Rutland,  should  not  have  brought  in  the  ladies — 
My  state  of  mind  was  unprepared  to  meet  them. 

Rutland.    Southampton,  as  you  are,  of  all  my  friends, 
The  one  I  cherish  most.     Do  this  for  me, 
Ay  for  thyself,  thy  honor,  say  one  kind  word 
To  lady  Vernon  e're  she  leaves — 

Essex.    It  would  be  gracious  on  thy  part  Southamp- 
ton. 

Southampton.    I'll   walk  without,   an  if  I   meet  the 

ladies, 
My  heart  dictates  to  follow  your  advice, 

And  meet  we  not, we'll  meet  some  other  time. 

[Exit  Southampton. 

Rutland.    Bear  with  him,  he's  so  devilish  fiery, 
As  needs  cool  air  to  square  him  with  himself. 

Essex.    Rutland,  thou'rt  right — thou  too  hast  temper, 
And  I  myself  am  well  bestowed  with  it  ; 
Three  heads  like  ours  must  bend  to  but  one  purpose, 

Rutland.    And  that  should  be ? 

Essex.    Uproot    the    weeds    that    fester    'round    the 

throne, 

And  lay  them  prone  at  good  Queen  Bessie's  feet ! 
This  stab  at  our  poor  friend  is  meant  for  me, 
An  emanates  from  our  good  Queen  herself, 
Who  loveth  gossip,  an  would  play  upon  me. 
— I  do  not  like  that  Sidney  near  the  throne 
Although  as  yet  I've  nothing  much  against  him. 

Rutland.    I  like  me  not  his  sinister  expression, 
And  that  for  one  makes  me  somewhat  lukewarm 


89 

In  giving  thought  to  marriage  with  milady. 

Essex.    Though  of  one  family,  Rutland,  this  remem- 
ber 

Milady  Sidney  is  so  far  removed 
In  person,  thought  and  temperament  from  this  man — 
That  you  need  never  meet. 

Rutland.    Of  that  am  I  aware — Yet — I  am  young ; 
Milady  scarce  fifteen,  there's  time  enough. 
Enter  LADY  SIDNEY. 

Essex.     How  now,  my  sweet,  an  have  the  lovers  met? 
Lady  Sid.    They  have,  an  may  success  attend  them! 
Tis  monstrous,  is  it  not,  O,  that  there  be 
Such  villains   loose  to   scatter  worse  than   death! 

Rutland.    We'll  yet  discover  who  the  villain  is ! 

Essex.    An  there   will   be   a   funeral   in   London ! 

Lady  Sid.    Oh,  how  you  talk  of  taking  life  away 
I'd  say  the  villain  should  be  soundly  whipped. 
An  shown  to  all  the  world  for  what  he  is; 
That  all  may  know  him  and  avoid  the  cur. 
To  kill  the  man  and  put  him  out  of  sight, 
Would  never  end  so  foul  a  practice. 
The  living  semblance  of  so  vile  a  traitor 
Should  ever  be  paraded  before  men! 
'Twould  curb  the  tongue  of  the  next  novice  at 
So  devilish  a  game ! 

Rutland.    Thy  heart  is  noble  as  thyself,  sweet  lady; 
Thy  head  sits  squarer  on  thy  lovely  shoulders 
Than  that  on  mine  or  Essex — 
I  shall  refrain  from  blood,  if  possible, 
If  it  were  but  to  meet  thy  trend  of  thought — 

Essex.    But  whipped  he  shall  be,  an,  if  that  his  life 
Escapes  so  foul  a  shell  in  the  proceeding; 
The  lovely  daughter  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney 
Will  grant  a  pardon  with  those  cherry  lips. 

Enter  SOUTHAMPTON  and  LADY  VERNON. 

Southampton.    Milord  of  Essex,  and  you  my  sweet 

Lord  Rutland, 

Allow  me  to  present  milady  Vernon, 
An  if  you  are  my  friend,  as  I  do  think, 


90 

We  will  agree  to  banish  the  affair 
Now  from  our  thoughts. 

Lady  Sid.    After  the  storm  the  calm,  an  all's  serene ! 

Essex.    'Twas  but  a  little  squall — let  us  forget  it — 

Rutland.    And   be   as   though   the  thing   hath   ne'er 

occurred ! 

(aside)  I'll  write  a  play  upon  it  well  disguised; 
You'll  find  it  in  the  title  I've  invented: 
"Much  Ado  About  Nothing," 
And  in  this  comedy  I  shall  insert 
The  pert  intrigue  my  friends  have  entered  on 
To  nurse  the   wit   combats   between  myself 
And  sharp  Beatrice,  as  I  call  my  Bessie, 
Into  a  match;  but  I'll  be  on  my  guard; 
The  Queen   insists — but  I   rebel  at  marriage; 
I  was  not  cut  out  for  a  Benedick — ! 
Enter  BACON. 

Essex.    Here  is  our  coming  chancellor,  Lord  Bacon! 

Rutland.    The   queen   might   go   some   distance   e're 

she   find 
A  head  more  steady  for  the  honored  place — 

Southampton.    But  'ware  lord  Cecil,  Bacon,  and  that 
Coke! 

Bacon.    Your  lordship's  please  to  jest — it  is  but  fair 
That  such  as  I  receive  the  long  sought  honor, 
An  if  my  path  be  cleared,  'tis  well  I  know 
To  whom  I  am  indebted  for  my  fortune! 

Lady  Sid.    You  have  my  best  wishes,  dear  Sir  Fran- 
cis! 

Lady  Ver.    An  mine  won't  grow,  dear  master,  by  re- 
hearsal ! 

Bacon.    My  heartfelt  thanks,  miladies  I  assure  you 
'Twill  add  another  obligation  still; 
But  gladly  borne. 

Lady  Ver.    Altho  my  sovereign,  with  me,  is  vexed, 
The  clouds  will  pass  away  e're  many  moons, 
An  the  reaction  may  work  blessings  for  us  all; 
Come,  lady  Sidney,  let  us  walk  without, 
And  leave  these  gentlemen  to  their  concerns. 


91 

Lady  Sid.    And  don't  forget  us  altogether  now; 
For  well  I  know  when  men  of  weight  like  you 
Do  put  your  heads  together,  it  were  vain 
To  think  you  gave  a  thought  to  our  poor  selves  ! 

[Exit  Both  Ladies  and  Essex. 
Bacon.    As  you  suggested  to  me,  milord  Rutland 
I've  had  that  Shaxper  at  my  house  to-day. 
Rutland.      An'     did     you     find    him     of     receptive 


Southampton.    Why  hast  thou  lost  all  faith  in  power 
of  gold? 

Bacon.     Milord,  'twas  not  we  feared  his  willingness, 
To  further  the  intent  of  our  affairs, 
That  I  thought  well  to  give  him  some  advice, 
And  milord  Rutland  did  agree  with  me, 
That  just  a  touch  of  schooling  in  deportment 
Would  arm  the  man  to  ward  off  petty  thrusts 
Of  prying  wits  with  whom  he's  bound  to  meet  ; 
There's  Jonson,  rare  Ben  Jonson,  for  example, 
Who  hath  an  eye  that  pierces  walls  of  stone  ! 
'Gainst  him,  I  wish  to  arm  our  Stratford  lad. 

Rutland.    An   what   success  thus   far  have  you  ob- 
tained? 

Bacon.    He  takes  my  method  as  a  duck  does  water 
An  as  a  mimic,  cannot  be  approached 
So  when  I  show  him  how  to  ward  off  Jonson 
And  other  wits  that  he  is  bound  to  meet, 
He  does  the  thing  far  better  than  myself  :  — 
Thus  does  he  put  it  when  their  praise  assails  him: 
"'Tis  nothing,  my  good  master,  I  assure  ye 
"These  lines  come  to  me  in  a  natural  way 
"The  while  I  lie  upon  my  couch  and  day-dream" 
An  in  this  manner  doth  he  carry  it, 
Without  receding  from  the  truth  a  whit! 
In  my  philosophy,  you  know,  my  lords, 
Truth  —  harnessed  to  the  broadest  lie 
Will  drag  a  weight  of  Error  through  this  world 
As  great  as  huge  Olympus! 

Southampton.    The  lines  do  seek  him  in  a  natural 
manner  ; 


Q2 

But  whilst  he   lies  upon   his   couch  he  lies, 

And  lies  like  this  will  cause  a  world  of  trouble, 

In  after  years  when   History  endeavors 

To  point  toward  the  man,  whose  fertile  mind 

Will  be  a  monument  to  all  mankind! 

Our  dummy  speaks  a  necessary  lie 

To  shield  our  phoenix  from  the  public  eye. 

Rutland.    What  should  we  do  without  you,  master 

Bacon 

A  mastermind  alone  could  thus  devise! 
A  lie  that's  plausible  an  hitched  to  Truth 
Will  carry  all  before  it! 

Bacon.    Another  matter  I  have  thought  upon — 
To  so  protect  your  claim  to  authorship 
When  centuries  have  washed  away  the  error 
That,  were  you  then  to  rise  from  out  your  grave 
An  say  "I  am  the  man"  could  prove  no  more! 

Southampton.     Thy      finger      marks,     good     master 

Bacon,  needs  then 
Must  so  appear  upon  the  evidence. 

Rutland.    An  proud  I  am  that  through  the  channel 
Of  thy  bright  mind  my  pathway  will  be  smoothed 
Plain  facts  shall  thus  assail  a  wondering  world 
As   will  perforce   down   counter  arguments — 
Speak   on — 

Bacon.     Inject  in  all  your  plays  a  circumstance 
That    will    fit    you    alone,    still   be    unknown 
To  any  other. 

Disguise   it   by   the   very    bluntness    of 
Thy   statement   in   the   drama  that   you   write. 
Make  use  of  names  in  giving  birth  to  characters 
That  do  exist  and  known  alone  to  you, 
Thus  the  ambassadors  in  the  sketch  of  Hamlet— 
Two  fellow  students  of  your  own  at  Padua, 
Of  Danish  birth,  now  at  the  Dansker  court 
As  also  your  "Polonius,"  who  I  see 
You've   modelled    after   your   poor   servant,   me. 
Rutland.    An  excellent  idea!  for  facts  don't  lie 
An  I  bethought  me  of  another  thing. 


93 

In  the  last  play  I've  sent  unto  my  dummy 
"The  Taming  of  the  Shrew."    I've  changed  location 
From  Athens  where  of  old  the  story  lived 
To  Padua — for  I  wrote  the  thing  while  there. 
Since  coming  here  and  meeting  with  this  Shaxper. 
I've  changed  the  wording  of  the  old  Induction, 
To  give  a  semblance  of  this  man's  employ. 
How  tinker  Sly  was  made  to  think  himself 
A   highborn   lord,    devoted   to   the   arts. 
But  in  my  version  he  does  not  wake  up, 
Because,  my  purpose  is  to  have  him  think 
The  greatness  he  enjoys  at  my  connivance 
Agreeable  to  his  now  prosperous  state. 
Thus  would  I  keep  him  till  he  doth  awake. 

Southampton.    You  can't  offend  this  clout  with  such 
a   dig 

For,   even   should   he   recognize  himself 
He'll  be  more  apt  to  feel  a  silly  pride 
That  will  push  all  offense  he  feels,  aside. 
Rutland.    However    that    may    fall,    Old    Sly    must 

stand 

I've  got  my  dummy,  Shaxper,  well  in  hand. 
I   have   implanted   in   his   soul  a   fear 
That  will  shut  out  my  secret   from  the  ear 
Of  any  prying  pen  that  pesters  him 
I'm    safe    enough — indulging    in    this    whim. 
Bacon.    I  catch  thy  meaning,  good,  milord  of  Rut- 
land— 

'Twas  that  you  plainly  pointed  out  the  fact 
That  your  live  pen-name — thus  disguised  as  Sly 
Makes  plain  the  Truth  when  centuries  go  by; 
When  the  ingenious  mask  will  rot  and  fall, 
And  Shake-Speare-Rutland  may  be  known  to  all! 
Rutland.    The  very  point  I  dwelt  upon  in  this, 
An  therefore  have  instructed  that  this   Sly 
Enact  his  part  before  the  Shrew  begins. 
Southampton.    Marvelously   it   is   devised,   my   Rut- 
land! 
Rutland.    Again,   by  noting  the   enormous   bulk 


94 

Of  my  fat  dummy  out  of  Warwickshire, 
I've  taken  model  of  him  for  Sir  John 
My  boisterous  Falstaff,  playtoy  of  Prince  Hal; 
This  name  I  took  from  Shaxper's  coat  of  arms, 
Of  which  he  showed  me  the  device  he  made — 
A  falling  spear,  or  lance  in  act  of  falling 
From  off  the  shield,  he  wishes  to  adopt. 
I  call  the  thing  a  staff  and  say  it  falls 
Whenever  Shaxper  misbehaves  or  palls ! 

Bacon.    You've   struck  a   portrait   of  this  man,  my 

lord 
That  cannot  be  mistaken  on  the  boards. 

Southampton.     His  paunch ;  his  witty  repartee,  and 

all 

By  Jove,  I'll  have  it  painted  for  my  hall 
And  you,  my  Roger,  you  shall  be  there  too! 
For  in  Prince  Hal,  I  recognize — why — you! 

Bacon.    Falstaff,  a  falling  staff,  unless  held  up 
By  strict  obediencefo    the  master  here 
The  only  danger  is  the  tavern  cup; 
The  element  he  lives  in — sack  and  beer. 
We  must  beware  of  Jonson,  for,  rare  Ben 
Will  die  to  know  the  owner  of  a  pen, 
That  in  the  least  approaches  his  in  worth, 
In  the  esteem  of  others  of  this  earth. 

Rutland.     In  taking  care  of  Ben  by  indirection, 
A  small  annuity  will  hold  him  in. 
My  cousin  Pembroke  will  get  Ben's  affection, 
At  twenty  pounds  per  annum  for  this  whim. 
The  man  is  poor,  and  will  let  out  his  pen, 
In  prose  or  verse  to  all  his  fellowmen; 
He'll  put  your  purport  in  the  finest  rhymes 
And  make  you  proud  to  think  you  wrote  the  lines; 
He  is  the  only  man  I  know  who  can 
Ambiguously  befuddle  god  and  man! 

Southampton.    Egad,  my  lord,  you've  got  rare  Ben 

down  pat; 

But  there  is  lots  of  wit  beneath  his  hat. 
He'll  get  your  secret  from  your  dummy  when 


95 
They  meet  anon,  and  when  they  meet  again! 

Rutland.    An,  if  he  does,  I'll  stop  his  mouth  with 
gold! 

Bacon.    You're  right,  my  lord,  Ben  can  be  bought — 
not  sold. 

Rutland.    I've   found  another  character  to  serve; 
That's  Dr.  Caius  of  old  Gonville  Hall. 
He  struts  the  boards  in  "Merry  Wives  of  Windsor." 

Bacon.    Ah !  well  I  do  remember  this  same  man 
In   actual   life,   his   hatred   of  the   Welsh. 
At  Gonville  Hall.    He  was  professor  there — 
In  character  and  name,  you've  hit  him  true. 

Southampton.  Why,  yes,  I  do  remember  talk  of  Caius. 

Rutland.    While  at  it,  good  my  lords,  let  me  recite 
My  private  marks,  that  is,  a  few  of  them, 
Which  will  be  proof  when  centuries  roll  by, 
That  dummy  Shaxper,  could  not  know  that  I 
Had  purposely  inserted  secret  marks, 
'Gainst  pirate  publishers  and  soulless  sharks. 

Bacon.      Say  on,  my  Lord  of   Rutland,  we  are  all 
attention. 

Southampton.    Aye,   Roger,   tell   us   how  thou   hast 
devised. 

Rutland.     Then,  first,  the  letter  my  lord  Essex  wrote 

me 
When  I  embarked  for  sunny  Italy. 

Bacon.    I  drew  that  letter  up  myself,  my  lord, 
Acting  as  scribe  for  noble  Devereux. 

Rutland.    Thanks  to  that  fact,  I  drew  Polonius! 
I've  kept  the  letter  safe  from  every  eye 
None  but  myself  has  seen  what's  written  there! 
Throughout  my  plays   I've  paraphrazed  this  script: 
Advice   Polonius   gives  unto  Laertes; 
Instructions  to  Raynaldo  to  act  spy, 
And  all  the  precepts  in  that  famous  letter 
Are  deftly  interwoven   in  my  work! 
In  "Much  Ado,"  I  mention  pert  "Beatrice," 
f  he  very  name  my  lady  Sidney  took 
When  I  adopted  "Benedick"  for  mine 


96 

For  use  in  wit  combats  and  repartee ! 

I've  called  attention  to  the  very  day, 

When,  through  intrigue,  poor  I  was  brought  to  bay 

Now,  how  could  Shaxper  know  why  that  was  done? 

In  my  "Two  Gentlemen  of  old  Verona," 

I  tell  the  outlaws  that  I  sojourned  there 

Some  sixteen  months — referring  to  the  time 

The  whilst  I  tarried  in  the  sunny  clime! 

In  my  induction  to  "Petrucio," 

I  name  Correggio's,  Jupiter  and  lo; 

'Twas   at   Leoni's    Studio   at   Milan, 

This  masterpiece,  by  me  was  looked  upon! 

Montecchi,  I  have  changed  to  Montague 

My  lord  Southampton's  mother's  maiden  name. 

For  Romeo  is  Wriothesly  to  you 

And  Juliet  brings  lady  Vernon  fame ! 

Then  my  two  kinsmen  of  the  House  of  York. 

Aumerle,  in  "Richard  two,"  and  "Henry  Fifth." 

Young  Rutland  also,  murdered  by  base  Clifford 

In  third  part  Henry  VI,  Act  I,  Scene  3, 

In  "Merry  Wives,"  I  mention  names  and  places 

Connected  with  my  dummy's  early  life; 

His  poaching  feats  and  other  paltry  cases 

In  "Sly"  I've  also  drawn  him  to  the  life. 

These  things  I  did  to  strengthen  his  position 

As  acting  dummy  for  my  future  work. 

And,  thus,  throughout  my  every  play  to  date 

I've  nailed  the  lying  pirate  printer's  fate! 

These  men,  I  see,  are  printing  my  plays  now 

Without  authority,  and  I  avow 

I  cannot  openly  protest  this  theft 

For  then  naught  of  my  secret  would  be  left! 

Southampton.    Too  true!  we  have  no  means  to  stop 

these   men 
Who  steal  their  liivng  from  another's  pen! 

Bacon.    Your  private  marks,  however,  will  remain, 
And  claims  to  authorship  vvill  all  prove  vain ! 
{Sidney    enters   unobserved — he    looks   about   and   re- 
treats without  speaking.} 


97 

Rutland.    Thus  may  I  safely  launch  on  my  career 
As  writer  of  vile  dramas  and  still  keep 
The  secret  from  the  world  that  plays  t'amuse 
The  rabble  (and  the  groundlings  in  the  stews), 
Were  born  within  the  brain  of  him  you  know 
As  Rogers  Manners-Shake-Speare,  Earl  of  Rutland! 
CURTAIN. 


SCENE  II.    Blackfriars  Theatre. 

Enter   SHAXPER. 

Shax.    The  plot  doth  thicken — I  must  keep  awake! 
The  slightest  slip  will  cause  misfortune- 
Pembroke  hath  served  me  well  with  my  employers. 
They  do  not  quiz  me,  leaving  me  free  play. 
But  Jonson,  O,  that  Jonson,  the  pointed  arrows 
He  doth  hurl  at  me,  stick  so  in  my  hide! 
Thus  far  I've  carried  off  the  matter  well; 
But  that  sardonic  smile  upon  his   face 
Doth  trouble  me. 

An  what  can  this  my  dread  employer  mean 
(pulling  out  Mss.  of  "Shrew") 
This  fore-play  of  this  beer  besotted  "Sly"? 
To  be  cajoled  and  made  to  feel  and  b'lieve 
He  were  a  lord  of  high  degree? 
How  marvelous  the  semblance — still  'tis  true ! 
In  this  am  I  consoled — 'Twill  be  a  secret 
To  all  the  world  but  me  and  my  tormentor! 
Who  poureth  balm    upon  my  bleeding  wounds 
By  furnishing  the  means  of  my  advance — 
Already  are  the  papers  under  way 
For  the  procurement  of  a  coat-of-arms. 
An  e're  the  present  moon  hath  run  her  course 
I'll  be  a  full  fledged  gentleman!  heigh-ho! 
Further  an  agent  whom  I  have  employed 
Is  making  progress  with  my  Stratford  plans, 
The  finest  house  in  that  forsaken  borough 
Will  soon  protect  the  family  I  deserted — 
Would  they  could  read  or  write  and  thus  enjoy 


The  marvelous  wit  that  bringeth  me  this  wealth! 
But,  that  alas,  is  never  to  be  hoped — I 
An  if  they  could  decipher  word  for  word 
The  kernel  of  the  nut  would  have  no  taste 
Within  the  brains  myself  let  go  to  waste! 
An,  well  it  is,  perhaps,  they  cannot  read! 
And  see  how  from  my  silly  recitation 
Of    piccadillos    in   my   days   of   youth 
Culled  from  my  boyhood  days,  are  intertwined 
By  this  magician  of  my  new  found  fortunes. 
The  reference  to  Sir  Lucy  makes  me  smile 
But  glad  I  am  that  I  can  see  through  this! 
An  O,  the  trick  he  plays  with  this  fat  Falstaff 
So  like  myself  in  stature  and  in  manner. 
How  far,  I  wonder,  will  this  schemer  go, 
In  rendering  a  likeness  of  his  slave! 
Enter  BURBAGE. 

Burbage.    Tis   well,   good   master   Shaxper  that   I 

find    you 

A  proposition  that  I  have  in  mind, 
(And  well  considered  by  my  partners  both) 
May  strike  you  in  a  favorable  light. 

Shax.    Your  kindness  overwhelms  me,  master  Bur- 
bage, 

(An  master  Heminge  and  Condell  as  well) 
Have  touched  upon  the  mainspring  of  my  heart! 

Burbage.    And  mighty  glad  we  are  of  the  adventure 
Of  your  bold  enterprise  to  seek  your  fortune, 
That  brought  you  to  our  door! 
Since  our  arrangement  of  the  other  day, 
I  and  my  partners,  after  consultation, 
Have  made  decision  to  include  yourself 
As  partner  of  our  business  here  in  Surry. 

Shax.    Then  happy  I,  the  patent's  under  way 

That  will  entitle  me  to  be  of  you  

My  family,  on  my  mother's  side — the  Ardens 

Entitle  me  to  have  a  coat-of-arms, 

And  e're  the  middle  of  the  coming  month 

I  sign  my  name  by  patent  "gentleman" 


99 

And  as  for  capital,  I  should  inform  you 
That  if  a  matter  of  some  paltry  pounds 
Would  serve  to  widen  out  our  sphere  of  action ! 
Tis  at  your  service,  for  I  have  the  coin! 

Burbage.    How,  do  I  understand  the  thing  correctly? 
Hath  Fortune  smiled  upon  you  at  the  sheds? 
Why  then,  old  Plutus  sent  his  messenger 
To  the  correct  address — 

I  do  congratulate  you,  Shaxper,  with  all  my  heart ! 
Those  plays,  the    manuscripts  of  which  you  gave  me, 
Are  such  as  never  we  have  had  before. 
But  feared  I  am  the  public  of  this  day 
Will  fail  to  see  the  pearls  thus  cast  before  them. 

Shax.    The  plays  can  all  stand  clipping  and  still  leave 
The  subject  presentable  on  our  stage. 

Burbage.    A  little  daily  practice  on  the  boards 
Will  remedy  this  point,  I  fear  me  not. 

Shax.    Ah,  time  will  tell— we  all  hope  for  the  best. 
[Aside]  (I  hope  he  may  no  further  push  the  test!) 
Enter  MESSENGER. 

M ess.    Is  there  one  William  Shaxper  hereabouts  ? 

Shax.    This  way,  my  lad,  I  am  the  man  you  seek, 
What  have  you  there  ? 

Mess.    A  package — 'twas  a  gentleman  who  met  me 
Upon  the  other  side  of  Thames,  who  bade  me 
Carry  it  according  to  direction. 

Shax.    Tis  well,  me  lad,  take  this  [handing  him  coin], 
and  thanks. 

[Exit  Mess. 

Burbage.  I  must  away,  so  leave  you  with  your  business 
We'll  meet  again  before  the  day  is  run. 

[Exit  Burbage. 

Shax.    Another  manuscript— and  still  they  come ! 
Those  that  have  gone  before  will  serve  awhile, 
I'll  take  the  present  writing  to  my  room, 
And  give  it  study,  that  the  run  of  it 
May  glibbly  pass  my  lips  upon  occasion — 
Let  see,  what  is  the  title  of  this  thing- 
CD,  would  I  could  but  read  the  script 


100 

As  well  as  tavern  signs  here  in  the  Stews ! 

My  master's  writing  here  is  plain  as  print 

Let's  puzzle  over  it,  and  see  what's  in't. 

"Much  'do  'bout  Nothing"  does  he  name  the  thing — 

Ah!  he's  attached  the  story  of  the  play: 

[Reads]" A  lady  of  unblemished  reputation, 

"Engaged  to  marry  with  a  gentleman, 

"Is  sore  maligned; 

"Her  lover  breaks  with  her  thereon ; 

"His  friend  one  Benedick  berates  him 

"For  lending  ear  to  scurrilous  inuendoes, 

"That  dare  not  bear  the  name  of  the  indictor, 

"This  friend,  one  Benedick  by  name,  doth  void 

"The  pressure  of  his  friends,  to  marry 

"A  charming  girl,  Beatrice,  by  name. 

"But  by  conspiracy  they  bring  the  thing  about 

And  also  prove  the  falsehood  of  the  slander 

"Against  the  lady  that  hath  been  maligned 

"And  thus,  and  thus " 

In  fact  it  is  well  named  for  such  a  theme; 

There  doth  appear  to  be  "Much  Ado  About  Nothing"— 

Enter  BEN  JOHNSON. 

Ha!  here  is  my  friend  Jonson  come  upon  me, 
These  papers  must  not  meet  his  watchful  eye! 
[Tucks  them  away  in  his  doublet] 
Well  met,  good  master  Jonson,  how's't  with  thee? 

Jonson.     Ha,   ha,   you   rogue,   you're   not  quite   sly 

enough ! 

Let  see  the  latest  offspring  of  thy  brain, 
Now  bulging  in  thy  bosom.    Come,  own  up ! 

Shax.    'Tis  not  quite  ready  for  the  public  eye. 

Jonson.    But  I  am  not  the  public— What,  thy  friend? 
An  can  no  friendly  eye  have  some  advantage? 

Shax.  Nay,  nay,  good  Jonson,  that  would  not  be  fair — 
What  would  good  master  Burbage  say  to  that  ? 

Jonson.    Well,  let  it  pass,  I'll  hold  my  curious  vein 
In  check  until  I  see  it  on  the  boards. 

Enter  BURBAGE,  HEMINGE  and  CONDELL. 
Ha!  here  come  the  purveyors  of  ideas! 


BEAUCHAMP  TOWER. 


CELL  IN  BEAUCHAMP  TOWER. 


INSCRIPTION  IN  RUTLAND'S,        J     J  » 
Cell  in  Tower  of  London. 


Good  morrow,  gentlemen,  an  how 

Burbage.    Holloa,  friend  Jonspn;  how  is  it  v/Hh  tfiec? 

Heminge.    I  have  a  message  o«f  il?  ont<tn,»  JonscniA  '; 

Condell.    Tis  not  as  bad  as  that— be  not  af eared ! 

Burbage.    Nor  do  we  know  at  present  but  it  will 
Add  to  your  favor  and  advertisement. 

Jonson.    How,  now,  what's  in  the  wind — I  hope — 

Heminge.    'Tis  nought  but  that  we  must  postpone  pre- 
senting 
Your  "Every  Man  in's  Humor"  for  a  week. 

Jonson.    How,  why— I  have  your  promise,  gentlemen. 

Heminge.    But  not  made  definite  as  you'll  admit — 

Condell.    Conditioned  on  the  run  of  that  now  going— 

Burbage.    An  then,  sir,  in  a  business  such  as  ours 
All  promises,  perforce  must  be  contingent. 

Heminge.    Since  last  we  met  and  talked  about  your 

play, 

We've  made  arrangements  with  another  partner, 
Whose  voice,  as  well  as  ours  must  be  considered. 

Jonson.     An   who   may   this    new    partner    be,    my 

friends? 
I  trust  for  your  sakes  you  have  made  good  choice  ? 

Burbage.    You  see  him  before  you — master  Shaxper ! 

Shax.    Your  servant,  Master  Jonson,  well  I  know 
You  wish  me  well  in  my  new  undertaking — 
[Aside]  He's  turning  green  with  envy  even  now. 

Jonson.     Well,  well  I  wish  you  luck,  good  master 
Shaxper ! 

Burbage.    You  see,  good  Jonson,  how  it  stands 
Our  partner,  Mr.  Shaxper,  here  hath  brought 
Us  two  new  plays  that  must  take  precedence 
The  time  and  season  for  their  presentation 
Just  suits  the  times  and  temper  of  the  public — 

Heminge.    On  whom  we  must  rely  for  our  returns — 

Condell.    While  the  production  of  your  masterpiece 
Will  stand  the  pressure  of  all  days  and  time— 
[Aside}  I  know  rare  Ben,  he's  fond  of  flattery! 

Jonson.    Ah,  flatterer,  well  then,  of  course,  we  wait 
An  see  what  new  perfection  goes  before. 


102 

What  is  the  manner  of  the  play  you  have 
That  must  perforce  take  precedence  of  mine? 

Zuibage     "Perforce"  is  well  adapted  to  the  truth. 
The  play's  put  on  by  order  of  the  Queen — 
Who  fancying  the  Falstaff  in  King  Hal, 
Desires  to  see  the  Knight  in  throes  of  love. 
Jonson.    Why,  then  of  course,  old  Ben  must  bide  his 

time — 

Heminge.     What  harm  is  there,  the  season's  young 
as  yet. 

Enter   SIDNEY. 

Burbage.    Good  day,  milord,  in  what  can  such  as  we 
Be  serviceable  to  your  gracious  self. 

Sidney.    I  am  commissioned  by  the  sovereign  queen 
To  give  thee  notice,  master  Burbage,  that, 
Before  presenting  the  new  play  you  have, 
Wherein  one  well  fed  Falstaff  falls  in  love, 
You  have  the  author  come  along  with  me, 
To  read  the  play  before  her  majesty — 

Burbage.  [Undecided  how  to  act]  hm!  hm! 
Your  order,  good  sir  Sidney,  shall  be  met 
Will  you  walk  with  me  to  the  inner  chamber 

[Shaxper — exit  on  hint  of  Burbagt. 
An  there  await  arrangement  of  your  wish — 
Sidney.    Lead  on,  but  do  not  keep  me  long,  good  Bur- 
bage. 

[Exit  Burbage  and  Sidney. 
Jonson.     P-h-e-w!     Your  partner  struck  it  rich  mc- 

seems,  good  Heminge. 
Condell.    So  it  would  seem. 

Jonson.    Good  luck  to  you  in  your  new  partnership, 
My  Thespian  conductors  of  the  play ! 
I'll  to  the  Mermaid  where  I'll  drink  a  glass 
To  all  your  healths  and  your  prosperity! 

Heminge.    Farewell,  good  master,  were  it  not  so  late 
I'd  join  you  on  the  way,  and  drink  with  you. 

Condell.   An  if  you  tarry  there,  we  all  may  meet, 
For  we  intend  to  celebrate  tonight. 

[All  Exit— Severally. 


103 

Re-enter  Sharper. 
[Tieing  on  a  new  neck  frill] 

Shax.    Confound  the  thing — the  button  will  not  inl 
'Tis  always  thus  when  time  is  niggardly ; 
An  well  it  is  I  had  my  wardrobe  stocked 
To  meet  occasion  unexpectedly! 
Now  this  ordeal — to  look  upon  the  queen ! 
With  eyes  not  mine — and  read  to  her 
Words  of  another  with  these  very  lips, 
Sold  forth  and  bartered  to  the  very  man 
Familiar  at  the  court  and  weary  of  it! 
We  have  not — an  we  want — an  when  we  have  it 
We  care  not — ! 

Long  has  it  been  my  dream  to  see  the  queen ! 
An  would  have  run  my  legs  off  for  that  pleasure 
And  now  my  wish  fulfilled — I  like  it  not! 
To  view  my  sovereign  through  the  glasses  of 
A  man  who's  weary  of  the  tinsel  show. 
And  know  the  queen  doth  thus  command  me 
Because  she  thinks  I've  written  to  her  liking! 
Ah!  'Tis  a  bitter  pill,  but  it  must  down! 
An  if  she  bluntly  asks  when  I  did  write  it, 
I  must  reply  "it  comes  to  me  'o  nights 
By  sources  natural,  unwearying  to  my  brain" — 
An  thus  I  speak  the  Truth — in  lying  words! 
But  then  what  would  you — there's  one  thousand  pounds ! 
An  patent  making  me  a  "gentleman!" 

Enter  SIDNEY  Unobserved. 

Sidney.      [Aside[    (Here's  opportunity  to  pump  this 

fellow 

And  rare  the  chance  is  for  a  fair  success.) 
[Aloud]When  you  are  ready,  sir,  let  us  be  gone 
And  don't  forget  the  manuscript,  my  man. 

[Exit  Sid.  and  Shax. 
CURTAIN. 


104 

SCENE  III.    Street  Scene  (Old  London.) 
(People  walking  about  and  some  groups  standing  re- 
marking upon  the  Queen's  boxing  Essex's  ears.) 
ist  Citizen.    An  mark  me  word,  he  will  not  stand  for 

it! 

A  man  of  temper  such  as  Essex  is 
Will  sure  resent  a  box  upon  the  ears. 
2nd  Citizen.    Didst  hear,  he  drew  his  sword  upon  the 

Queen? 
3rd  Citizen.    He  did  not  pull  it  forth  from  out  the 

sheath — 
4th  Citizen.    But  might  as  well  for  the  appearance  of 

it— 
ist  Citizen.    An  now  he's  placed  in  honorable  arrest — 

2nd  Citizen.    To  keep  the  house  and 

3rd  Citizen.    What  never  to  go  f orth  ?— 'Twill  kill 

him! 

4th  Citizen.    I  like  this  Essex,  an  if  he  wants  men, 
I  know  of  some  will  help  in  this  affair! 
1st  Citizen.    An  so  do  I — just  count  on  me! 
2nd  Citizen.    An  I  shan't  fall  behind — ? 
3rd  Citizen.    Let's  stone  the  windows  of  old  Cecil's 

house ! 

4th  Citizen.     I  an  my  fellows  will  waylay  old  Coke! 
And  thrash  him  soundly ! — Essex  for  me ! 

ist  Citizen.    Here  come  Lord  Rutland  and  Southamp- 
ton; 

Stop  your  shouting  or  they  may  tickle  thy  ribs — 
Are  they  for  Essex? 
2nd  Citizen.    Rutland  is  Essex's  friend — 
3rd  Citizen.    An  so's  Southampton! 
4th  Citizen.    An  both  these  lords  are  rarely  seen  at 

Court. 
But  go  to  see  the  play  most  every  night. 

Enter  RUTLAND  and  SOUTHAMPTON. 
Rutland.    What  have  we  here — you  men, 
What's  all  this  shouting? 

Southampton.    And  is  it  seemly?    Why  'tis  insurrec- 
tion! 


105 

Don't  shout  the  name  Essex  quite  so  loud! 

[Aside  to  first  Cit.]  How  many  are  you  that  will  side 

with  Essex? 

ist  Cit.    Me  an  my  friends  will  number  to  some  sixty. 
Southampton.    Come  to  me  quietly  then  to  my  house 
I  would  have  further  speech  with  thee. 
Rutland.    [To   2nd   Cit.]    Your   shout  just   now   for 

Robert,  Earl  of  Essex, 
Would  betoken  that  you  are  for  and  with  him. 

2nd  Citizen.    An  that  I  am ! — A  box  upon  the  ear ! 
I  feel  it  tingling  an  it  were  my  own ! 
Rutland.    How  many  friends  have  you  that  feel  your 

way? 

2nd  Citizen.     I  cannot  count  them  up  off  hand,  milord ; 
But  know  of  near  a  hundred  good  stout  hearts 
Would  do  and  die  for  Essex! 

Rutland.    'Tis  well  ,meet  me  to-night  at  Drury  House 
Almost  adjoining  Lincoln's  Inn,  near  Strand, 
I've  somewhat  that  may  bring  you  fair  employ. 
Take  this  as  a  reminder  of  my  meaning  [handing  coin], 
An  fail  not  in  your  being  there  betimes. 
Southampton.     [To    ist    Cit.]    Pass    on    now,    walk 
away  and  show  me  how  many  of  this  rabble  follow 
thee, 

[Aside  to  Rut.]  When  he  has  gone  with  those  who  fol- 
low him, 
Do  you  the  same  with  that  man  you  approached. 

[ist  Cit.  exit  with  some  of  the  rabble. 

Rutland.  [To  2nd  Cit.]  Now  walk  you  down  the  street 

and  see  how  many  mark  thy  going  and  will  follow. 

Southampton.    I  counted  over  ten  go  with  my  man. 

Rutland.    There   now   goes   my   new   recruit   like  a 

magnet 

Drawing  away  some  twenty  men  of  steel — ! 
Southampton.    The  scheme  looks  well.    Let  us  report 

to  Essex. 
Our  cry  at  all  times  must  be  "For  the  Queen !" 

[Exit  South,  and  Rut. 


io6 

Re-enter  SOUTH,  and  RUT.  Bringing  in  PEMBROKE  and 

MONTGOMERY. 

Pemb.    An  as  I  passed  the  street  I  heard  them  talk 
Of  Rutland  and  Southampton  rather  loud — 
Mont. — I  cautioned  them  to  make  their  speed  more 

quiet 
And  they  did  mind  me  to  a  man. 

Rutland.    You  see,  milords,  these  men  do  so  despise 
The  haughty  manner  of  the  gold  laced  crowd, 
That  hang  about  the  Court  and  fester  there. 
E'en  you,  Southampton,  know  a  friendly  word, 
Will  bring  an  army  of  these  men  to  us. 
Where  your  accustomed  bearing  with  high  hand 
May  draw  their  persons;  but  without  their  hearts! 
Pemb.    That's  the  whole  kernel  of  the  nut,  South- 
ampton ; 

Be  gentle  with  the  rabble  during  life, 
And  when  you  need  them,  they'll  be  trjere, 
And  every  man  a  soldier! 

Mont.    'Tis  thus  we  ever  have  been  taught — So  now, 
When  brother  Pembroke  and  myself  go  forth, 
The  rabble  hail  us  as  we  pass  along. 
Southampton.    I   never   could   do   that — but   see  the 

point. 

Would  I  had  done  so  e're  this  weary  day — 
Let  us  adjourn  to  Drury  house  for  the  night 
We've  much  to  settle  e're  we  visit  Essex ! 
Rutland .     Poor  Essex  can't  come  forth  to  join  us 

there 

So  we  must  act  for  him  in  this  affair. 
Pemb.    On  then,  milords,  we'll  meet  you  there  anon. 
Mont.    'Twould  look  suspicious  to  see  us  together 
Perambulating  Paul  yard  arm  in  arm. 
Southampton:    'Tis  well — within  the  hour  we  meet 
again. 

[Exit  All  Severally. 
Enter  SIDNEY. 

Sidney.    Had  I   but  dared    to    come    within    their 
hearing, 


I'd  read  their  faces  for  my  day's  report. 

Enough  to  know — and  what  I've  seen  here  now 

Will  interest  the  queen,  I  doubt  me  not — 

Halloa !    What  have  we  here  ? 

That  fat  man  drunk!  [Exit. 

Enter  JONSON  and  SHAXPER  (Both  Worse  for  Wine.} 

Jonson.    You  take  the  wall  my   Shaxper,   I'm  not 

drunk, 
Whilst  you  might  slip  and  fall  into  the  kennel? 

Shax .    O,  mind  not  me,  good  brother  toper,  Ben, 
My  paunch  can  stow  away  a  goodly  lot, 
And  (hie)  I  feel  as  fresh  and  sober  now 
As  when  I   (hie)   was  reading  to  the  Queen. 

Jonson .    Now,  how  in  hades,  did  you  get  that  com- 
mand, 

How  was  it  I  knew  naught  of  it  before, 
Dost  spill  thy  brain  on  paper — ?  Tell  me  Shak. 

Shax      The  thing  comes  natural  to  me — 
Without  an  effort— 

(aside)    (In  that  at  least  I  do  not  tell  a  lie) 
And  when  I  lie  alone  within  my  lodgings 
My  muse  comes  into  me — and  there  you  are! 

(aside)      (He  was  with  me  this  morning,  O,  thou 

Muse 
In  silk  and  velvet,  daintily  perfumed.) 

Jonson.    How    come    you    on    the    characters    you 

invent ; 

They  seem  so  natural  and  full  of  life 
That  'tis  no  compliment  to  say,  My  Shakebag. 

Shax.     Cut  that!     Don't  call  me  Shakebag  sir — you 
know — 

Jonson.    Ha,  ha!   I  never  noted  what  I  said. 
I  was  about  to  say,  my  Shakescene  wit 
That  Falstaff  looks 

Shax.    I'd   have  you    (hie)    understand  my 
Name's  not   Shake    (hie)   Scene! 
An  am  entitled  to  the  wall  I  hold 
'Gainst  such  as  you  or  any  other 
I  am  a  (hie)  gentleman,  I'd  have  thee  know! 


io8 

Jonson.    And  will  the  Falcon  lose  thee,  Master  Shax- 

per,  gent? 
(coughts  derisively) 

Shax .     See  here  me  man  (hie)  I'd  further  have  thee 

know,  the  wine  the  Mermaid  sells, 
Hath  been  adulterated  (hie) 

Jonson .    What  was  the  host  to  do  when  you  come  on 
To  drain  what  stock  he  has. 
What  troubles  me  is  (hie)  what 
The  fellow  takes  to  swell  his  stock,   (hie) 

Shax.    Whatever  'tis — 'tis  rotten,  master  Jonson, 
An  I'll  no  more  of  it  from  this  day  on! 

Jonson,    I've  heard  that  tune  before,   (hie) 
An  I  myself  have  sung  it!  (hie) 
And  when  I  lost  the  words  of  the  refrain 
I  always  found  them  coming  forth  again: 
O,  at  the  Mermaid!  (hie) 
Ho,  for  the  Mermaid!   (hie) 

Shax.     (singing)   The  mermaid  forever!    (hie) 

Jonson.     Now  tell  me  truly  master  Shaxper,  do; 
For  we  were  interrupted  in  the  thing, 
How  come  your  characters  to  be  so  true 
So  full  of  life,  so  real,  and  so  superb? 

Shax.    Ah  there  you  touch  upon  a  tender  spot. 

(aside)  (Indeed  he  does — and  I  must  find  an  answer.) 

Jonson.    Come  do  enlighten  me  on  this,  my  Shak; 
I  fain  would  know  the  manner  of  it,  come ! 

Shax .    Well,  then,  'tis  this  way  master  Jonson,  sir, 
The  characters  you  see  so  well  depicted, 
They  are  no  manikins  as  in  your  plays; 
But  real  live  people  whom  I  know  do  live. 

Jonson.    Then  who's  this  Falstaff  whom  our  Sove- 
reign Queen 
Hath  fallen  in  love  with?  O,  that  braggart  lout! 

Shax.    You  would  not  believe  me,  Jonson,  if  I  told 
you. 

Jonson.    I  will,  indeed,  if  you'll  but  tell  me  true! 

Shax.    Jack  Falstaff  is  a  picture  of  myself! 
I  paint  him  so — just  for  my  own  amusement, 


109 

I  want  to  hold  the  middle  of  the  stage; 
Thus  far  I  have  succeeded— think  you  not? 

Jonson.    If  that's  the  scheme,  you  are  a  witty  fellow 
And  do  succeed  where  other  people  fail ! 
And  who's  Prince  Hal  who  caught  thee  at  thy  lies 
About  Gadshill  and  all  those  buckram  robbers? 

Shax.    That  is  a  friend  of  mine,  a  noble  lord 
(aside)      (Who  acts   the   part   e'en   now   unto  per- 
fection.) 

Jonson.    Now,    that's    a    point,    I've    never    given 

thought — 

To  take  live  people  that  we  know  in  life 
And  put  them  on  the  boards  in  different  garb. 
I  thank  thee  Shaxper  for  this  hint  of  thine. 
Enter  Two  STABLE  BOYS. 

Shax.    Here  son  (gives  a  coin),  take  this  an  walk 

with  me  a  bit 

You  know  my  lodging  house  down  in  the  stews? 
I  am  a  little  tired  out — with  drink, 
So  lead  me,  boy,  a  bit  toward  the  Clink. 
Me  boy  it  will  not  take  thee  long   (hie). 
And  while  we  walk,  I'll  sing  a  song  (hie) 
"The  old  leather  bottle,  Oho,  Oho, 
For  I  am  the  author  of  Lear!" 

1.  Stab.  Boy.    Come  on  me  fairy — steady — lead  the 
way! 

{Shax  and  Boy  Exit  Right. 

Jonson .    Farewell  good  master  take  advice  an  sleep — 

'twill  sober  thee! 

An  thou  hast  told  me  that  which  does  me  good. 
I'll  mark  the  thing  and  follow  up  the  point. 
Come  on,  me  boy,  an  steady  me  a  bit! 

2.  Stab.  Boy.    Whereto,  good  master  Jonson,  see,  I 
know  you. 

Jonson .    An  who  don't  know  Ben  Jonson 

— Rare  Ben  Jonson — I'll  warrant  ye! 

My  lodgings  are  too  far  for  me  to-day,  (hie) 


no 


Back  to  the  Mermaid— (hie) 
Ho,   for  the   Mermaid!    (hie) 

[Jonson  and  2  St.  B.  Exit  Left. 
CURTAIN. 


SCENE  IV.    Southampton  House. 

Enter  RUTLAND. 

Rutland.    Thus  am  I  then  embarked  upon  my  scheme ! 
A  dozen  plays,  that  I  had  long  in  making, 
Are  ready  for  the  boards  when  called  upon. 
An  excellent  thing  it  was  in  Master  Bacon 
To  put  me  on  the  track  to  so  arrange 
That  Roger  Earl  of  Rutland  never  will 
Appear  as  author  of  a  common  play 
Enacted  thus  before  the  city's  rabble! 
These  plays  will  hold  attention  of  mankind 
As  long  as  words  have  meaning  in  this  world ! 
But  should  the  name  of  Rutland  once  be  known, 
The  Queen  would  soon  cut  short  my  business, 
And  much  that  still  I  have  to  write  upon 
Would  thus  be  lost  to  this  benighted  world! 
So  well,  I  think,  I  have  my  secret  guarded, 
That  naught  but  treason  in  the  ones  I  love 
Will  bare  it  to  the  world  this  generation ! 
There  is  my  second  self,  Southampton,  first; 
Then  Pembroke  and  Montgomery  and  Essex, 
Who  each  would  give  their  lives  before  the  facts; 
And  as  for  Shaxper, — why,  he  is  secure. 
His  word  would  never  hold  against  my  own — 
And  there  are  matters  passed  between  us  two 
That  so  entangle  that  fat  dummy's  fate, 
No  word  of  his  will   ever  breath  my  name — 
He  feels  too  well  the  danger  hanging  o'er  him. 
First — Sudden  disappearance — if  he  slip — 
And  if  not  that,  the  gray  walls  of  the  Tower, 
Are  ample  warning — 

But  there's  milady  Sidney!  that  sweet  girl, 
Is  far  too  shrewd  to  not  have  got  a  hint, 


Ill 

And  tho,  I  love  her  tenderly,  God  knows, 
There's  that  that  bars  me  from  her  lovely  hand. 
Essex  doth  push  me  to  make  up  the  match; 
Southampton  and  his  lady  too  insist — 
Whereas  the  Queen,  from  her  high  throne,  commands  1 
But  God  on  high  hath  put  this  mark  on  me! 
Despite  this  curse,  it  is  in  self  defense 
I  take  milady  Sidney  to  the  Altar — 
The  die  is  cast!     I  marry  on  the  morrow! 
Enter  SOUTHAMPTON. 

Southampton.    Ha,   Rutland  I  am  glad  to  see  thee 

here ! 

The  storm  is  gathering  and  our  loyalty 
Is  put  upon  the  test. 
There's  Essex  under  honorable  arrest, 
Hath  made  arrangement  with  lord  Robert  Cecil 
And  had  permission  from  the  angry  queen 
To  issue  forth  to  walk  an  take  the  air. 
He  will  be  here  anon. 

Rutland.    I  and  my  vast  estates  are  at  his  back 
I'd  lay  my  head  upon  the  block  for  him ! 
The  word  of  Rutland  lasts  till  very  death 
And  Essex  knows  it! 
At  no  time  was  I  e'er  so  fit  as  now 
To  bare  my  breast  before  the  enemy! 
{Southampton  Goes  to  a  Window  Looking  out  Upon 
Strand. 

(aside)    (Before  me  is  a  life  far  worse  than  death 
And  worse  than  that  for  my  Elizabeth 
I  feel  the  spirit  of  her  father  now 
He  knows  what's  working  neath  my  fevered  brow! 
Sir  Philip,  from  his  place  on  high  doth  see 
The  misery  in  store  for  her  and  me — 
O,  let  thy  genius,  good  Sir  Philip,  guide 
Thy  loving  children  now,  whate'er  betide  I 

Southampton.    Hello    there,     Rutland,    here    comes 

Pembroke  now; 
Fresh  from  Whitehall,  I  wonder  what's  the  row! 

Rutland.    Is  not  my  coz,  Mongomery,  with  my  lord? 


112 

Southampton.    He  is,  they're  coming  up  the  staircase 

now 
Why,  here  they  are,  what  news  bring  you,  my  lords? 

Enter   PEMBROKE   and   MONTGOMERY. 
Pemb.     I  met  milord  of  Essex  at  Whitehall; 
He  could  not  gain  admittance  and  feels  sore 
That  such  as  Cecil  could  or  should  so  bar  him. 

Mont.     But  we  have  managed  fairly  well  with  him, 
Tho  he  defied  old  Coke  unto  his  face, 
Thought  better  of  the  thing  and  came  with  us. 
Rutland.    Where  did  you  leave  milord  of  Essex  then? 
Southampton.     Why  not  have   carried   him   directly 

here? 

Pemb.    He  spoke  of  papers  left  at  Essex  house 
That  were  in  danger  of  a  false  direction. 
Southamapton.     Of  what  import  do  you  suppose,  Lord 

Pembroke  ? 

Pemb.     His  correspondence  with  the  Scottish  King! 
Rutland.    'Twould  cost  his  head  to  have  that  fact  dis- 
covered. 

Mont.    I  am  afeared,  his  temper,  lest  it  cools 
Will  yet  bring  that  to  pass,  milord — I  fear — 
Pemb.     And  all  of  us — unless  we're  resolute — 
Rutland.     We're  in  it  now — and  must  abide  results ! 
Southampton.    Our  pass  word  still  is  "For  the  Queen ! 

the  Queen!" 
Rutland.    And  for  the  Queen  it  is  and  always  was ! 

Enter  ESSEX. 
Essex.    Aye  "For  the  Queen!"    to    clear   her    royal 

throne 

Of    all  that  vermin  which  infects  it  now! 
But  the  unkindest  cut  in  the  affair 
Is  the  position  master  Bacon  takes. 
I  saw  him  at  my  house  where  he  was  waiting, 
When  he  fell  on  his  knees  to  beg  of  me, 
To  not  go  further  in  this  sorry  matter 
He  swore  I'd  lose  my  head  if  I  persisted, 
And  counseled  quiet  and  forgetfulness. 


113 

Pemb.    The  man  is  not  far  wrong,  an  tho  I'm  with 

you 

Through  thick  and  thin  in  this  affair  of  thine, 
I  too  would  counsel  reconsideration ! 

Rutland.    No  man  would  ever  dare  to  call  me  coward, 
And  I  would  lose  this  very  head  for  thee ! 
But  this  I  say  that  if  there  still  be  time 
To  alter  the  direction  of  our  minds — 
Make  not  another  step!     Thus  do  I  feel. 

Mont.     Unless  success  falls  to  our  share,  my  lords, 
Our  lot  spells  ruin — Tower — axe ;  the  block ! 

Essex.     Who  is  there  doubts  success  when  we  are 
right  ? 

Southampton.     An   so  say  I — On  with  the  game!   I 
say! 

Enter  LADY  SIDNEY  and  LADY  VERNON. 
Ha,  ladies  'tis  not  well  thai  you  are  here. 
The  matters  we've  in  hand  will  not  permit 
The  presence  of  fair  ladies  on  the  scene — 
The  clouds  are  gathering — there's  a  storm  a-brewing! 

Lady  Ver.     Then  get  from  under  e're  it  is  too  late! 
O,  Henry  think  of  me  an  what  you  do! 

Lady  Sid.     Milord  of  Essex, — you  my  second  father, 
Pray  think  of  me  e're  you  proceed  in  this! 

Rutland.     Be  not  afeared  my  gentle  lady  Sidney, 
The  sun  still  shines,  and  all  may  yet  be  well. 

Lady  Ver.    The  reason  we  intruded  here  upon  you 
Js  that  Lord  Sidney  is  without — and  we — 

Lady  Sid.    We  held  our  uncle  long  in  conversation 
Until  good  master  Bacon  came  upon  us — 

Lady   Ver.    So   catching  at  the  opportunity, 
Ran  off  to  warn  you  of  this  man's  approach. 

Pemb.    Tis     well     you     did— this     Robert     Sidney, 

friends, 
Is  much  too  near  the  Queen  to  suit  our  case. 

Mont.    Too  fond  of  gossip  and  I  know  not  what 
So  I  avoid  him,  have  no  use  for  him. 
Essex.    Confound   that   man   and   well   it   was   that 
you 


114 

Were  happening  there  to  bar  that  gossip's  way — 

Southampton.    He   would   have   come   upon   us   un- 
awares. 

Rutland.    That  seems  to  be  a  paltry  trick  of  his. 

Essex.     Southampton,  do  you  go  get  rid  of  Sidney, 
And  when  you  do,  bring  Bacon  here  to  us. 

Southampton.    Ladies  come  with  me  I  may  need  you 

two 
To  work  dismissal  of  this  paltry  knight! 

[Exit  South,  and  Ladies. 

Essex.     The  strange  position  Bacon  finds  him  in, 
Is  that  he  seeks  preferment  from  the  Queen, 
And  hangs  between  the  throne  and  my  affairs ; 
The  time  being  short  for  parley  he  is  racked; 
He  must  let  go  but  does  not  know  just  where 
His  feet  must  land — for  profit  or  advantage! 

Rutland.    Bacon  is  poor — that  is  the  riddle  of  it — 

Petnb.     I  thought  it  was  for  Power  he  played  alone. 

Mont*    Both  are  the  answer  of  the  present  case, 

Essex.    'Twas  but  a  year  ago  that  I  presented 
Him  with  a  small  estate  to  help  him  out. 

Rutland.     An  that  was  generous  indeed  milord — 
But  still  to  look  upon  the  present  case 
'Tis  hard  for  such  as  he  to  see  all  fall — 

Pemb.    Whichever  way  he  jumps — he'll  be  hard  hit — 

Mont.     An  therefore,  really,  I  do  pity  him — 

Essex.    That's  idle  talk  an  if  he  were  a  man, 
He'd  say  to  me :    "I  cannot  go  your  way — 
But  here  he  comes — so  hear  him  speak  himself. 

Enter  BACON. 

How  now  good  Bacon,  is  there  any  more, 
I  thought  you  said  your  say  at  Essex  House. 

Bacon.    Your  servant,  gentlemen,  an  by  your  leave 
I'll  put  the  case  without  the  least  adornment. 

Essex.     Speak  on  and  if  thy  counsel  be  of  value, 
In  such  a  mess  as  we  are  tumbled  in 
Perchance  there  is  a  way  to  lead  us  out. 

Bacon.     Then,  plainly  put,  the  case  is  this  my  lord : — 
If  you  make  open  war  upon  the  men 


ROGER,  5th  EARL  OF  RUTLAND, 
from  a  painting  by  Van  Somer. 


BELVOIR  CASTLE,-  . 
Leicestershire. 


H5 
The  Queen  doth  smile  upon,  you'll  lose  the  fight. 

Essex.    An   if   we   win   the   fight— what  then,  good 

Bacon  ? 
"For  the   Queen!"  D'ye  hear,   sir,   "For  the  Queen!" 

Bacon.    An  if  you  win  the  fight  there'll  be  more  war ! 
A  war  that  must  stir  up  one-half  this  Kingdom! 
Brother,  'gainst   Brother — Blood  will  flow,  unchecked, 
And  when  all's  done  an  you  have  won  the  day 
My  lord  of  Essex  will  have  had  his  way! 

Essex.     An  if  we  lose?  Speak  on  we're  not  afeared — 

Bacon.    Then    all    spells    Tower   and    Block!      You 

know  full  well 

My  love  for  you,  milords,  (each  one  of  you!) 
Speaks  for  submission! 
Forgetfulness  and  within  six  months'  time 
Milord  of  Essex  will  regain  his  place ! 

Essex.    Place  without  honor  never  was  for  Essex—-! 

Bacon.     Milord,  as  Counsel  for  the  Crown  and  State, 
I  warn  thee  that,  calamity  befalling, 
I  too  have  place  and  honor  to  support. 

Essex.    What  then? 

Bacon.    Why  I  must  speak  against  you  in  the  case — 

Essex.     Then  do  thy  duty,  Bacon,  by  all  means, 
And  when  I  lay  my  head  upon  the  block, 
I'll  think  on  Bacon ! 

CURTAIN. 


ACT  III. 
SCENE  /.  Mermaid   Tavern   (left)   and  Street. 

Enter  SHAXPER. 

Shax.    My  loss  is  such  as  cannot  be  repaired. 
The  wielder  of  my  fortunes  is  arrested: 
In  the  affair  of  Essex's  insurrection. 


n6 

Southampton  too  may  suffer  on  the  block. 

Confound  it  all! — an  I  a  gentleman! 

And  clever  was  the  trick  that  got  the  patent. 

So  here  I  am  to-day 

With  means  curtailed  to  keep  me,  as  a  gent — 

With  house  just  bought  and  coat-of-arms ; 

And  my  investment  in  the  theatre — 

The  balance  will  but  meet  the  Mermaid  Score! 

An  how  will  I  now  face  the  world — an  Jonson — 

Ah,  here  he  comes,  that  rare  Ben  Jonson  now — 

Enter  JONSON. 

I've  waited  for  you  here  the  past  half  hour 
And  being  dry  I  quenched  my  thirst  without  thee — 

Jonson.    Tis  well  you  did  just  that,  gentle  Shaxper, 
The  world  is  topsey  turvey  it  would  seem, 
An  if  the  thing  goes  on  as  it's  begun, 
There'll  be  no  shows  for  want  of  public  soon. 

Shax.    Gran  mercy,  what  in  heaven  can  have  hap- 
pened ? 

Jonson.    O,  nothing  much  except  hot  headed  Essex, 
With  Rutland  an  Southampton  an  some  others, 
With  rabble  at  their  back  rushed  forth,  on  Strand 
Armed  cap-a-pie  to  murder  all  at  Court! 
The  Queen  sent  forces  to  oppose  these  fools 
An  they  drove  Essex  back  to  Essex  House, 
With  Pembroke  an  Montgomery  in  the  train 
Who  joined  the  other  lords  when  sore  beset! 

Shax.    O,  Demmit,  man,  that  means  the  Tower  and — 
block! 

Jonson.    An  no  one  left  to  come  an  see  our  show ! 

Shax.     (aside)     An  no  one  left  to  write  my  plays 
for  me!) 

Jonson.    'Tis    a    mad    world,    my   masters!     I'll   be 

sworn, 

When  courtiers  will,  to  venge  a  slight  insult 
Committed  by  the  hand  of  good  Queen  Bess 
A  simple  box  upon  the  ears,  forsooth, 
Draw  sword  upon  their  fellows  at  the  throne! 
And  void  their  patronage  at  our  nightly  show! 


ii; 

Shax.    These  lords  were  our  most  regular  supporters ; 
They  an  their  company  would  fill  our  house, 
An  now  it  is  the  Tower — maybe  the  block ! 
Jonson.    Most  likely,   though   I'm   sorry   for  young 

Rutland ! 
Ha,  what  comes  here — ? 

Enter  LADY  SOUTHAMPTON  and  LADY  RUTLAND. 
Lady  South.      O,   cousin   Bessie,  there's   that   great 

fat  man, 

For  all  the  world  like  Falstaff  in  the  play! 
Shall  we  enquire  of  him  as  to  our  lords? 

Lady  Rut.    I  saw  the  man  late  at  Southampton  house; 
It  might  be  safe  to  have  some  speech  with  him, 
But  ward  thee — 'tis  the  Mermaid  where  they  are 
An  spirits  may  have  made  him  troublesome. 
Lady  South.    We'll  risk  it — there's  another  standing 

there, 
He  won't  permit  offense  against  two  ladies. 

(walking  over  to  S.  and  J.) 

Come,  we  shall  ask  them  did  they  see  our  lords. 
Pardon  us,  gentlemen,  have  you  seen  pass  by 
Milord  Southampton  and  the  Earl  of  Rutland? 

Shax.       Fair    ladies,    we've   not    seen    the   one   nor 

t'other— 
Jonson.    An  if  we  had — what  should  we  know  them 

by? 

Shax.    O,  I  would  know  them  very  well  miladies, 
But,  I  assure  you,  they've  not  passed  this  way — 
Lady  Rut.    Then  thank  ye,  gentlemen — an   God  be 

with  ye. 

Lady    South.    A    thousand    thanks — then    we    must 
hasten    on — 

[Both  Ladies  Exit. 

Jonson.     Two  likely  ladies  that  will  soon  be  widows ! 
Shax.     Poor  souls,  they  have  no  inkling  of  it  yet. 
Aye,  may  the  Lord  protect  them,  the  poor  souls  1 

Hush  what  comes  here — • 

Enter  a  Rabble  Shouting. 
Rabble.    Chorus:    Essex  found  guilty,  and  must  lose 


his  head ! 

Essex  is  lost  !    The  valiant  Essex ! 
The  generous  Essex !    The  axe ! 
The  bloody  axe!— The  block! 

[Crosses  Stage  and  Exit. 
Enter  Citizen  and  a  Few  Followers. 

Johnson.     An  now  how  is  it  with  this  mad  cap  Essex, 
An  have  they  locked  him  up  in  Essex  House? 

Cit.     That's  what  they  did  an  Essex  from  that  house 
And    from   the   windows   where  he   stood  bareheaded 
He  launched  forth  curses  upon  those  he  hated 
And  swore  he'd  die  before  he  would  give  up! 

Shax.     Hoi  there!     An  are  they  at  it  yet,  my  man? 

Cit.     Oh  no,  "my  man"  yourself  an  who  art  thou 
That  thou    shouldst  cry  "my  man"  unto   thy  betters, 
Zounds? 

Shax.     I'd  have  thee,  fellow,  plainly  understand 
That  I  am  William  Shaxper,  gentleman — 

Jonson.    Ho,  not  so  fast,  sweet  William,  for  you  say 
The  patent  hath  not  issued  yet —  now  has  it? 

Shax.     An  what  is  that  to  thee,  my  master  Jonson, 
My  speech  is  with  this  man  an  not  with  thee ; 
An  'tis  not  requisite  to  be  o'er  nice — J 

Cit.    "Gentleman!"  ha,  ha!     Who  would  a  thought 

it! 

Was't  thou  <a  gentleman  before  thy  father? 
A  sorry  clout  to  be  a  gentleman! 

Jonson.     Those    words     require    correction,    master 

Shak! 

At  him — revenge  thyself;  thou  art  insulted! 
Thy  honor,  friend,  compells  thee!  at  him  Shak! 

Shax.     What!    'pon  compulsion — ? 

Jonson.    How   like   thy   Falstaff — that   was   true   to 
nature ! 

Cit.    Upon  compulsion  or  any  other  way — I  care  not  I 
I'll  not  be  "thou'd"  by  any  such  as  he; 
I'll  "thou"  my  intimates  my  friends  and  cronies 
But  when  a  stranger  "thous"  it  is  offensive ! 
Unless  it  be  some  great  man  to  a  clout — 


IIQ 

Remember   that,   thou   William    Shaxper,   gent! 
Whose  patent  for  that  name  may  still  hang  fire ! 
Shax.    (aside)  Another  blow,  an  if  that  man  spake 

true 

An  my  high  backer  gets  the  block,  good  bye! 
Good  Bye  to  all  my  greatness  !    Ah,  good  Ben ! 
Thus  go  the  well  laid  schemes  of  mice  and  men ! 
Jonson.     How  now,  are  we  reciting  the  new  play — ? 
Shax.      Nay,  nay,  good  Jonson,  'twas  a  fancy  passed 
This  moment  through  my  aching,  throbbing  brain 
An  as  I  live  the  thing  may  yet  transpire ! 
Cit.    Ah,  here  they  come?    The  sheriff  at  their  head! 
Shax.    Ye  gods !     The  axe !  with  edge  towards  my 

lords ! 
Jonson.    Why  that  means  death!  the  bloody  axe,  my 

God! 

Shax.    Angels  an  ministers  of  grace  defend  us ! 
The  axe!  ye  gods!  that's  death!  where  are  my  dreama 
Of  wealth,  and  title,  O,  it  is  too  hard! 

Enter  Ladies,   SOUTH,   and  RUT.   (left) 
Lady  South.    0,  gentlemen,  O,  mercy,  have  you  seen 

them —  ? 
Lady    Rut.    We    failed    to    intercept    them    as    w« 

wished — 

O,  heavens  may  milord  have  taken  cue 
In  time  to  save  his  friends —  as  well's  himself — ! 
Lady    South.    Too    late    I    fear — O,    heavens,   Bess, 

look  yonder 

That  dread  procession  all  in  black  down  there  I 
Lady  Rut.    What  can  that  mean —  and  soldiers  all 

about —  ? 
Cit.    Ladies,    stand    back,    ye    might    be    hurt — step 

hither ! 

I  believe  that  the  procession  comes  this  way! 
Shax.    What    are    they    halting    for,    good    Ben,    I 

wonder. 

Jonson.    Fast,  far  too  rapid,  O,  my  gentle  Shaxper! 
Is  a  proceeding  that  leads  to  the  block! 
Lady  South.    What  is  it  gentlemen — Some  prisoners? 


I2O 

Lady  Rut.    An  he  spoke  of  the   Block!  what  docs 

it  mean? 
Lady  South.    I  dare  not  speak  my  thoughts,  it  is  too 

dreadful ! 
O,  Henry,  Henry,  O  milord  Southampton ! 

Lady  Rut.    Hush!  Do  not  speak  his  name  so  openly. 
O,  Rutland,  Rutland!     Whither  are  we  going? 
Shax.       Ladies,  step   this   way,  'twill  be  dangerous 

there 

When  all  that  crowd  of  men  comes  up  this  way! 
Jonson.    Do.    ladies,    I    beseech    you!    back!    backt 

back ! ! ! 
Lady  South.    I  will  not  budge  a  step  an  they  run 

o'er  me. 
I  must  see  whom  they  have !  O,  woe  is  me ! 

Cit.    Stand  here  then — out  of  reach  of  all  those  men ! 
Quick,  ladies,  here  they  come !  or  you'll  be  hurt ! 
Lady  Rut.    Do,  cousin,  stand  up  here— 'tmay  be  all 

well. 
Shax.     (aside)  Ah,  would  to  heaven,  'twere  and  like 

the  play, 
Turn  out  to  be  "Much  Ado  about  Nothing!" 

Jonson.    An  canst  thou  still  rehearse  thy  silly  plays 
When  mortal  men  are  marching  to  the  block? 
Look,  Shaxper, 

As  I  live !    The  axe — with  edge 
Towards  the  prisoners,  doomed  to  lose  their  heads  I 
Cit.    The  axe !  Ah,  that  means  Tower  and  Death ! 
Ladies,     (repeating   excitedly)      Mercy,   they   comef 

Hold  fast  my  hand — stand  thus! 

Oh !  Oh !  Oh !  May  heaven  above  preserve  our  lords  I 
Enter  Procession,  Sheriff  at  Head,  With  Axe  Towards 

Prisoners. 

ESSEX,  SOUTHAMPTON,  RUTLAND  and  Soldiers  and  Rab- 
ble Following. 

Lady  Rut.     (Breaks  away  and  rushes  on  Rutland) 
They  shall  not  take  thee  forth  my  husband!  No! 
Rutland.    Fear  not,  sweet  Bess;  an  all  may  yet  be 
well! 


121 

Lady  South,     (also  rushes  to  her  husband,   South- 
ampton.) 
My  Henry,  O,  milord,  milord,  milord!  take  me  with 

you! 

They  shall  not  tear  me  from  my  husband's  arms! 
Not  while  I  live  or  my  Southampton  breathes! 
Back,  Sheriff,  turn  thy  axe  the  other  way, 
For  Wriothesly  will  have  another  day ! 
Southampton.    Sweet  wife,  rush  back  to  Drury  House 

at  once ; 

Quick  save  my  papers,  and  my  very  life! 
Rutland.    An  you  my  darling  wife,  haste,  haste,  with 

her! 

Back  with  thy  cousin  to  Southampton's  house. 
In  my  scritoire — my  papers — haste  thee  quick, 
My  life  is  safe  when  you  accomplish  this ! 

Essex.    Ladies,  the  fault  is  mine  an  if  they  call 
For  blood  my  head  sumceth  to  wipe  out 
All  guilt  of  your  good  husbands — mine's  the  fault 
And  I  will  show  them  how  an  Essex  dies! 

[Ladies  Embrace  Husbands  and  Exit. 
Procession  Moves  on  to  Left  Exit. 
SHAX.,  JONSON  and  CIT.    Exit  into  Mermaid  Inn. 

Enter  Sidney. 

Sidney.    I  went  too  far  in  my  reports  of  late 
An  now  I  cannot  save  them — O,  my  God ! 
My  family,  and  myself ! 

I'll  get  the  brunt  of  it  when  this  my  work  is  done! 
And  to  the  shame  of  Princes  be  it  said — 
The  Queen  will  do  me ! 
I  must  await  the  run  of  these  events, 
And  if  I  must —  I  must —  take  road  to  Dover! 

Sid.  Exit. 
Enter  SHAXPER. 

Shax.    Thus  have  I  set  me  in  a  goodly  mess ! 
No  wonder  people  sneer,  and  hiss  out  "gentle" 
They  know  I  got  my  Coat  of  Arms  by  fraud ! 
The  word  will  stick  though  the  expression  dies, 
And  thus  it  is  men  make,  "immortal  lies!" 


122 

With  more  than  fifteen  plays  not  yet  produced, 
An  Rutland  drawing  deathward  to  the  block ! 
Now  must  I  calculate  the  time  an  manner 
In  which  I  issue  forth  these  written  plays — 
An  by  judicious  alteration  mark  them, 
To  fit  the  signing  of  my  own  good  name 
As  William  Shakspere,  gentleman,  of  Stratford. 
But,  hold  those  playing  now  are  signed  as  Shake-Speare 
An  with  a  hyphen  for  distinguishment 
I  must  await  his  death  at  any  rate 
An  Rutland  must  first  die,  my  course  to  shape! 
CURTAIN. 


SCENE  II.    Room  in  Tower  of  London. 

RUTLAND.  Sitting  at  Table  Writing. 
(Throws  Down  Pen,  Takes  Up  Mss.  and  Comes  For- 
ward. 

I  cannot  write  with  this  dead  weight  upon  me ! 
My  brain  seems  caked,  the  numbers  will  not  come. 
Ah,  lady  Rutland,  thou  my  new  wed  wife — 
To  thee  my  mind  turns  in  my  dire  extreme ! 
[Reads]  "O,  for  my  sake  do  not  with  fortune  chide : 
''The  guilty  goddess  of  my  harmful  deeds, 
"That  did  not  better  for  my  life  provide, 
"Than  public  means  that  public  manner  breeds" — 
But  yesterday  a  peer,  to-day  a  pauper, 
To  labor  with  my  hands  for  daily  food ! 
For  not  a  farthing  will  I  ever  borrow, 
To  pay  for  my  necessities  while  here ! 
My  mind  is  not  in  trim,  I  hardly  know 
The  sense  of  what  I  write  while  I  am  so. 
[Reads]    "Than    public    means    that    public    manners 

breeds." 

[Speaks]  Now  this  last  number  seems  ambiguous; 
There's  where  my  mind  don't  equal  my  occasion 
Tho  as  I  think  and  feel — it  does  convey 
A  joint  idea  of  what  I  have  in  mind — 
However,  as  these  lines  are  for  no  eyes 


I23 

To  seek  for  mares'  nests  in  a  wilderness, 

I'll  let  them  stand  to-night  and  dream  upon  it. 

An  if  they  give  offense  upon  the  morrow, 

I'll  kill  them  off,  an  say  no  more  of  it! 

[Reads]   "Thence  comes  it  that  my  name   receives  a 

brand, 

"And  almost  thence  my  nature  is  subdued 
"To  what  it  works  in,  like  the  dyer's  hand. 
"Pity  me  then  and  wish  I  was  renewed — 
"Whilst  like  a  willing  patient,  I  will  drink 
"Potions  of  eysell,  'gainst  my  strong  infection — 
"No  bitterness  that  I  will  bitter  think 
"Nor  double  penance,  to  correct  correction. 
"Pity  me  then,  dear  friend,  an  I  assure  ye, 
"Even  that  your  pity  is  enough  to  cure  me." 
[Speaks]    Should   lines  like  these   fall  into  strangers' 

hands, 

And  know  the  brain  wherein  these  numbers  bred, 
'Twould  puzzle  them  to  think  the  Earl  of  Rutland 
Encased  a  soul  benumbed  to  wail  that  song — ! 
Fear  not!    These  lines  shall  never  see  the  light 
But  it  relieves  my  soul  to  write  them  down — 
Who  knocks  there? 

Enter  KEEPER  (with  keys.) 

Keeper.    Milord  of  Rutland,  there's  a  man  arrived, 
As  there's  no  prohibition  'gainst  his  visit 
I  brought  him  with  me,  an  he  stands  without. 

Rutland.    An  if  I  were  not  in  the  mood  to  see  him — • 
What  sort  of  man  is  he,  my  gentle  guard? 

Keeper.    A  weighty  man  of  heavy  countenance 
Who  by  his  looks  wants  not  for  nourishment. 

Rutland.  [Aside]  Ha!  'Tis  my  dummy,  master  Shax- 

per — ,  oh  ! 

Ye  gods,  to  note  the  smallness  of  some  souls! 
'Tis  like  the  crow  awaiting  in  the  stubble 
The  dying  kick  of  a  decrepit  hind; 
To  feed  upon  the  carcass  e're  it  rot! 
But  yesterday  I  had  this  man  in  hand; 
To-day  he  has  his  fingers  at  my  throat! 


124 

Such  is  the  world!    Admit  him,  master  gaoler! 
An  I  will  hear  what  bringeth  him  to  me. 

Enter  SHAXPER. 
How,  master  Shaxper,  an  what  brings  thee  here? 

Shax.    Pardon,  milord,  an  if  I  incommode  you, 
But  circumstance  is  my  apology — 

Rutland.     Cut  short  thy  words,  an  state  the  circum- 
stance ! 

Shax.    O'erreading  of  the  parchment  of  agreement, 
I  fail  to  find  provision  for  events 
That  since  befell  to  alter  our  conditions — 

Rutland.     How  our  conditions — speak  it  bluntly  out! 

Shax.     Last  week  milord  was  master  of  Belvoir; 
To-day  I  hear  the  block  awaits  milord ! 

Rutland.     An  thou  darest  spout  that  jargon  to  my 
face? 

Shax.    Last  week  I  was  but  the  plain  William  Shax- 
per; 

To-day,  by  patent  issued — "Gentleman!" 
I  ask  accommodation  in  your  manner 
An  cease  from  "thou'ing"  me. 

Rutland.    Varlet  begone !    Before  my  worthy  steel 
Play  digging  angleworms  within  thy  paunch. 

[Passes  at  him  with  foil,  Shax  dancing  in  fear.} 

Shax.    Kneeling    Pardon,  milord,  as  if  I  overstepped 
The  bounds  of  due  respect,  'twas  ignorance, 
Consider  it  the  fault  of  my  thick  skull! 
But  not  the  dictates  of  an  honest  heart ! 

Rutland.    Profane  not  honesty  with  such  a  gizzard! 
Now,  that  thy  mouth's  shot  off,  unburden  thee. 
What  wouldst  thou  of  me? 

Shax.  [Still  kneeling}  Milord,  the  various  amounts  I 

had  of  you 

Are,  in  anticipation  of  continued 
Payments,  expended  and  paid  out  upon 
A  dwelling  that  I  bought  in  Stratford  town. 
New  Place  'tis  called ;  and  on  my  partnership 
With  Burbage  and  his  people  at  the  Globe 


125 

So  not  a  shilling  cash  remains  to  me. 

Rutland.  Rise ! 

And  is  not  property  and  partnership, 

[Rises.] 

In  a  profession  that  doth  yield  amain, 
As  good  as  coin  in  pouch,  or  better  still — 
An  doth  thy  partnership  suffice  thee  not 
To  keep  on  nourishing  thy  bulging  paunch  ? 

Ska.r.     Pardon,  milord,  an  if  I  got  excited 
To  think  thy  life  were  drawing  to  a  close, 
I  did  make  bold  to  seek  you  here  to-day 
And  beg  of  you  provision  for  the  future. 

Rutland.     [Flinging  a  heavy  purse  at  Shaxper's  feet 
There,  varlet,  fill  thy  hungry  crop  with  that 
An  get  thee  from  my  sight !    But  hear  me  first : 
And  as  thou  wabbiest  back  to  thy  abode 
Carry  this  with  thee — an  forget  it  not : 
Mark  me  !     The  least  abrasion  of  thine  oath  , 

Mark  thou!  is  death  upon  discovery! 
Thinkst  thou,  vile  stupid  ass,  I  read  ye  not? 
Nor  did  provide  against  my  being  tied? 
Avaunt!  thou  wretch — an  tremble  day  and  night 
Until  I  reassure  thee  once  again ! 

[Exit  Shax. 

Rutland.  [Continuing}  O,  England!  What  a  blot  upon 

thy  name! 

To  harbor  such  a  villain  in  thy  realm — . 
'Tis  like  an  ulcer  on  the  fairest  neck, 
That   nauseates,   and   numbs   activity ! 
And  such  a  tool  hath  Fate  put  in  my  way, 
To  save  the  house  of  Rutland  from  disgrace ! 
So  low  a  trade  as  writer  for  the  rabble, 
Who  hiss  or  clap  their  hands  as  they  may  list ! 
In  this  respect  I  plainly  see  correction, 
And  for  the  Future  I  record  my  plays ; 
For  I  do  know  and  feel  it  in  my  bones 
That  the  theatre  and  stage  play  acting 
Will  be  the  recognized  amusement  of  the  world ! 
Held  high  in  honor  and  in  good  respect 


126 

When  bigotry  shall  die  of  very  shame ! 

[Goes  to  the  window  and  looks  out] 
My  God!  there  forms  the  dread  procession  now, 
That  leads  milord  of  Essex  to  the  block! 
Thy  head,  O  Essex,  forfeit  to  thy  temper. 
O,  rash  Southampton,  may  this  lesson  serve! 
But,  as  for  me,  I'm  tired  of  this  world, 
And  if  the  Queen  condemned  me  to  the  axe, 
I  die  content — and  in  a  noble  cause! 

Enter  GAOLER. 

What  now,  my  sturdy  keeper,  what's  amiss? 
Wouldst  thou  apprize  me  of  my  Essex's  fate? 
Then  know,  both  he  and  I  are  well  prepared 
To  meet  a  sovereign  greater  than  Queen  Bess ! 

Keeper.    I  came  to  draw  the  curtain,  milord  Rutland ; 
To  hide  from  view  the  agonizing  scene 
About  >to  be  enacted  on  the  green. 

Rutland.  Fear  not,  my  honest  man,  my  heart  is  brave ; 
I  would  to  God  I  might  change  place  with  Essex! 
Step  hither,  friend,  they  are  about  to  move 
And  they  must  walk  this  way  to  reach  the  block 
That  yonder  beckons  lovingly  to  me ! 

Keeper.     I  cannot  trust  myself,  milord,  to  witness 
So  curt  a  separation  from  this  world ; 
An  like  the  Scottish  King  I  faint  at  blood! 
Permit  me  to  retire,  noble  Rutland. 
Rutland.     Go   friend,  an  peace  be  with  thee !   Here 
they  come ! 

[Exit  Keeper. 

How  rapidly  the  distance  is  devoured 
Altho  the  pace  is  slower  than  a  snail. 

[Cries  out  of  window] 

Cheer  up  my  Essex !     Fare  thee  well,  milord ! 
Banish  all  thought  of  what  shall  now  prevail. 
Bend  all  thy  mind  t'ward  heaven  and  be  free! 
[Essex  voice  from  without  or  arrange  to  have  Essex 
and  procession  pass  in  view} 
Farewell,  my  Rutland,  grieve  not  at  my  fate; 
I've  quelled  my  soul  by  banishment  of  hate. 


127 

At  yonder  grate  I  hear  Southampton's  voice, — 
That  you  and  he  are  saved,  I  do  rejoice! 
Farewell,  sweet  lord,  pass  greetings  to  my  wife, 
(The  mother  of  thy  partner  for  life!) 
This  kerchief  I'll  leave  blood  soaked  on  the  green 
Present  it  with  my  greetings  to  the  Queen! 

Rutland.    An  if  my  fate  reserve  to  me  that  grace, 
I'll  throw  thy  blood  soaked  token  in  her  face ! 
Farewell  again,  I  will  retire  from  view 
My  eyes  refuse  to  see  them  murder  you ! 
[Walks  up  and  down,  after  a  minute's  pause  a  thud  is 

heard} 

Hark!  There  snapped  the  link  that  held  the  life 
Of  Robert  Devereux,  the  noble  Essex; 
May  God  have  mercy  on  his  erring  soul! 
The  nobleness  of  my  brave  Essex's  mind 
By  contrast  loomed  so  far  above  the  Queen's, 
As  the  most  distant  star  unto  the  moon! 

[Sits  down  and  writes,  after  a  pause,  walks  forward] 
Still  do  the  numbers  stumble  in  my  brain 
Poor  willing  paper  that  must  bear  this  strain ! 
While  here,  I  cannot  work  upon  my  plays, 
My  name  would  then  be  known  to  all  the  world, 
As  Shake-Speare,  whom  my  dummy  represents ; 
But  I  must  write,  or  I  shall  go  insane 
Help  me,  my  genius,  put  me  in  the  vein! 
Stir  up  my  muse  and  I  will  sing  thy  praise ; 
In  honeyed  Sonnets  will  I  worship  thee; 
Immortalize  thee  to  the  end  of  days! 
I'll  picture  thee  a  youth  surpassing  fair 
Outvieing  young  Adonis   face  and  air! 
I'll  ask  thee  to  bear  children  in  my  brain, 
The  counterfeiting  which  will  be  in  vain ; 
Thy  beauty  shall  shine  forth,  the  brightest  star, 
That  all  the  world  shall  praise  thee  from  afar! 
But  when  thou  call'st,  and  my  poor  pen  refuse, 
I'll  remedy  the  fault  and  chide  my  Muse! 
When  melancholy  spells  overcome  me  now, 
I'll  call  on  thee  to  ease  my  fevered  brow. 


128 

My  Genius  !    Sole  companion  of  my  cell ; 

Thou  master-mistress  of  my  muse's  passion! 

I  am  thy  slave — do  with  me  what  thou  wilt, 

And  if  the  world  is  shocked  at  our  pure  love 

We'll  look  aloft  for  smiles  from  God  above! 

These  lines   [referring  to  paper  in  his  hand]  I  wrote, 

I  really  don't  know  why ! 
Forever  thinking  of  deceased  I. 
[Reads].    "No  longer  mourn  for  me  when  I  am  dead 
"Than  you  shall  hear  the  surly  sullen  bell 
"Give  warning  to  the  world  that  I  am  fled — 
"From  this  vile  world  with  vilest  worms  to  dwell. 
"Nay,  if  you  read  this  line  remember  not 
"The  hand  that  writ  it;  for  I  love  you  so 
"That  I  in  your  sweet  thoughts  would  be  forgot, 
"If  thinking  on  me  then  should  make  you  woe. 
"O,  if  (I  say)  you  look  upon  this  verse 
"When  I  perhaps  compounded  am  with  clay, 
"Do  not  so  much  as  my  poor  name  rehearse 
"But  let  your  love  even  with  my  life  decay. 
"Lest  the  wise  world  should  look  into  your  moan, 
"And  mock  you  with  me  after  I  am  gone." 
[Speaks].    Away!  Thou  silly  offspring  of  my  muse! 

[Flings  paper  away] 

Thy  ring's  not  natural  and  I  know  thee  not. 
Hast  visited  my  Essex  in  his  grave 
To  see  what's  left  of  him  decay  and  rot? 
How  dare'st  thou  trouble  me  awhilst  I  rave 
Of  my  fond  wife,  so  sudden  overcome, 
By  dire  events  born  on  misfortune's  wave 
Betokening  the  setting  of  my  sun ! 
I've  been  at  fault,  not  proffering  better  counsel 
To  both  Southampton  and  dead  Devereux. 
Remorse,  the  cruel  tyrant  of  the  mind, 
Is  pressing  red  hot  irons  to  my  soul 
I  dare  not  lay  me  down  upon  my  couch 
For  fear  my  mind  be  shattered  by  the  strain 
With  slender  promise  of  a  rest — that's  vain ! 


129 

But  I  must  sleep — if  only  sleep  will  come, 

[Lies  down  on  couch] 
And  then  abide  until  to-morrow's  sun ! 

(After  Pause)  Enter  SIDNEY. 

Sidney.    [Looking   around   and   discovering   Rutland 

asleep} 

My  noble  kinsman,  has  tliou  f  all'n  so  low ; 
Hast  changed  thy  happy  Belvoir  for  the  Tower? 
"Tis  thus  the  seed  in  rashness  thou  didst  sow, 
That  tore  thee  from  thy  wife's  hymenial  bower; 
O,  would  I  could  undo  what  I  have  done, 
And  take  my  kinsman  with  me  to  the  Queen. 
Who  could  foretell  my  idle  gossip's  run 
Would  lead  him  to  the  block  upon  the  green ! 
This  I  will  do,  and  if  fate  prosper  me, 
I'll  to  the  Queen  at  once,  the  time  is  rife — 
I'll  do  my  utmost  to  set  Rutland  free 
An  failing  this,  attempt  to  save  his  life ! 
As  for  Southampton  he  deserves  his  lot. 
He  likes  me  not,  so  let  that  hot-head  rot! 
CURTAIN. 


SCENE///.    Throne  Room    (Whitehall)  With  Platform 

for  Players. 
QUEEN  ELIZABETH  on  Throne,  Ladies  and  Courtiers. 

Enter  SIDNEY. 
Queen.     How  now,  my  Sidney,  hast  thou  done  my 

errand  ? 
Sid.    [Falters]       My-gracious-queen,-I-have-but-just- 

returned — 
Queen.    Why  falterest  thou,  what  would'st  thou  hide 

from  me, 

An  hast  thou  been  in  time  to  do  my  bidding? 
Speak!  is  it  meet  that  I,  the  Sovereign  Queen, 
Tear  from  thee  piecemeal  that  thou  come'st  to  say — 
Hath  my  reprieve  for  Essex  been  delivered 
An  hast  thou  brought  Lord  Rutland  here  to  court? 
Did'st  thou  procure  Southampton  fitter  quarters? 


130 
Speak!     Slowpoke!  make  immediate  report! 

Sidney.     Essex  is  dead!  and  Rutland  waits  without; 
Southampton  has  been  quartered  in  the  Beauchamp. 
Queen.    Wretch  !    Essex  dead  ?    An  thou  stand'st  idly 

by 

With  smirking  lips  to  speak  it  to  my  face? 
Did'st  tarry  on  the  way  to  void  my  pardon 
To  favor  thine  own  personal  revenge; 
To  this,  thy  idle  gossip  hath  beguiled  me, 
Thy  tender-hearted,  broken-hearted  Queen. 
Arrest  Lord  Sidney! 

[Courtiers  lay  hands  upon  Sidney.} 
Away  with  him  an  lodge  him  in  the  Tower ! 
The  Bloody  Tower  where  the  princes  smothered 
And  see  ye  lose  no  time  upon  the  way  — 
His  tarrying  before  cost  Essex's  head. 
[Aside}  Oh  Robert,  O  my  Robert,  dead,  dead,  dead! 

Sidney.     [Being  led  off} 
[Aside}    Put  not  thy   faith   in   Princes,   wouldst  thou 

thrive. 

Instead  of  wasting  time  on  Rutland,  I  must  strive 
To  do  some  grovelling  to  save  myself ! 

Queen.    Permit  him  not  to  speak — Away  with  him ! 

[Exit  Sid.— Led  off. 

Bring  Roger,  Earl  of  Rutland  to  the  throne! 
[Aside}     (We'll  test  his  boast  that  he  despises  life.) 

Enter  RUTLAND. 

Queen.    Come,  Rutland,  what  have  you  to  say? 
Rutland.     Nought  that  would  please  my  Sovereign's 

ear  to  hear! 
Queen.   How,  wouldst  thou  brave  thy  Queen  upon  her 

throne? 
Beware,    others   have   dared,   an   their   poor   souls   are 

flown ! 

Rutland.    It  matters  little  what  you  do  with  me. 
Bring  Essex  back  to  life !    Set  lord  Southampton  free ! 
Queen.    Such  words  to  me,  milord,  beware  the  block! 
Rutland.      When   Essex    fell,   my  queen,   I    felt  the 
shock! 


GRAY'S  INN  HALL, 
where  Rutland  frequently  attended. 


131 
Queen.     [Aside]   (A  nobleman!  in  very  truth — I  love 

him!) 
[Aloud]      Would'st  thou  provoke  me  then  to  do  my 

worst  ? 

Rutland.    My  head  is  ready,  an, thy  vengeance  thirst! 

[to  courtiers] 

Take  me  away,  I  have  no  business  here; 
Back  to  the  Tower  to  weep  on  Essex's  bier ! 

[starts  to  go  away] 
Queen.     Hold,  lords,  arrest  him;  keep  your  eyes  on 

him ! 

I'll  make  him  suffer  whilst  I  take  my  whim, 
To  see  a  play  performed  e're  he  be  gone. 

Courtier.    The  players  are  awaiting  the  command 
Of  our  most  gracious  Sovereign  Queen. 

Queen.    The  show  I've  ordered  set  up  here  to-night, 
Is  the  prelude  to  "Taming  of  the  Shrew," 
With  Master  Shaxper  as  the  toping  wight. 
Have  Rutland  stay;  but  keep  him  well  in  view! 

Enter  PLAYERS. 

Courtiers  Sit  Around  With  RUTLAND  in  Center  Stage. 
Rutland.  {Aside]  That  was  a  whim  to  play  my  skit  on 

Shaxper ! 

An  with  my  straw-man  in  the  title  role. 
The  play  describes  th'  identical  position 
This  dummy  Shaxper  finds  him  in  to-day 
Towards  himself,  in  living  in  a  dream 
That  promises  both  fame  and  wealth  in  gold. 
With  all  his  cunning,  yet,  ye  gods,  how  shallow ! 
Queen.    When  all  is  ready,  let  the  play  begin ! 

SLY'S  DREAM. 

SCENE  I.    Ale-house  (left},  Greensward,  etc. 
Enter  on  Platform  Stage,  From  Inn  Door,  SLY. 
Hostess.    A  pair  of  stocks,  you  rogue ! 
Sly.    You're  a  baggage,  th'  Slys  are  no  rogues.    Look 
at    the    chronicles,    the    Slys    came    in    with    the 
Conqueror ! 

Hostess.    You'll  pay  for  the  glass  you've  burst! 
Sly.    No,  not  a  dernier.    Go  to  thy  cold  bed  an  warm 


132 

thee!     (Lies  down  on  the  ground  and  goes  asleep.) 
Wind  Horns — Enter  LORD  From  Hunting  with  Train. 
Lord.    What's  here?    One  dead  or  drunk?    See,  doth 
he  breathe? 

1.  Hunter.    He  breathes,  milord,  were  he  not  warmed 
with  ale, 

This  were  a  bed  but  cold  to  sleep  so  soundly. 

Lord.    O  monstrous  beast !    How  like  a  swine  he  lies ! 
Sirs,  I  will  practice  on  this  drunken  man. 
What  think  you,  if  he  were  convey'd  to  bed 
Wrapped  in  sweet  clothes,  rings  put  upon  his  fingers 
And  most  delicious  banquet  by  the  bed 
And  brave  attendants  near  him  when  he  wakes 
Would  not  the  beggar  then  forget  himself  ? 

2.  Hunter.    It  would  seem  strange  unto  him  when  he 
wak'd. 

Lord.     Then  take  him  up,  and  manage  well  the  jest, 
Carry  him  gently  to  my  fairest  chamber 
An  hang  it  'round  with  all  my  wanton  pictures, 
Balm  his  foul  head  in  warm  distilled  waters 
And  burn  sweet  wood  to  make  the  lodging  sweet. 
Procure  me  music  ready  when  he  wakes 
To  make  a  dulcet  and  a  heavenly  sound 
And  if  he  chance  to  speak,  be  ready  straight 
And  with  a  low  submissive  reverence 
Say  "W7hat  is  it  your  honor  will  command?" 
Let  one  attend  him  with  a  silver  basin 
Full  of  Rosewater  bestrewed  with  flowers, 
Another  bear  the  Ewer — the  third  a  diaper 
And  say  "Will't  please  your  lordship  cool  your  hands  ?" 
Someone  be  ready  with  a  costly  suit 
And  ask  him  what  apparel  he  will  wear 
Another  tell  him  of  his  hounds  and  horse, 
Persuade  him  that  he  hath  been  lunatic 
An  when  he  says  he  is — say  that  he  dreams 
For  he  is  nothing  but  a  mighty  lord. 

i.  Hunter.     My  lord,  I  warrant  you  we'll  play  our  part 
As  he  shall  think  by  our  true  diligence 
He  is  no  less  than  what  we  say  he  is. 


133 

Lord.    Take  him  up  gently  and  to  bed  with  him 
And  each  one  to  his  office  when  he  wakes. 

(Some  bear  out  Sly — Trumpet  sounds). 

SCENE  II.    Bedchamber  in  the  Lord's  House. 

(Sly  richly  appareled  in  night  dress  in  bed,  attendants, 

etc.,  per  orders  .of  Lord,  Scene  I). 
Sly.     [waking  up]  For  God  sake  a  pot  of  small  ale. 

1.  Servant.     Will't  please  your  lordship  drink  a  cup 
of  sack? 

2.  Servant.     Will't  please  your  honor  taste  of  these 
conserves  ? 

3.  Servant.     What  raiment  will  your  honor  wear  to- 
day? 

Sly.     I  am  Christopher  Sly — Call  not  me  honor  or 
lordship 

I  never  drank  sack  in  my  life — Conserves  ? 

Give  me  conserves  of  beef — Don't  ask  about  raiment 

I  have  no  more  doublets  than  backs,  no  more  stockings 
than  legs. 

Nor   shoes   than    feet,   ay   sometimes   more    feet   than 

shoes  as  my  toes  look  through  the  overleather. 
Lord.    Heaven  cease  this  idle  humor  of  your  honor. 

O,  that  a  mighty  man  of  such  descent 

Of  such  possessions,  and  so  high  esteem 

Should  be  infused  with  so  foul  a  spirit! 
Sly.     What,  would  you  make  me  mad !     Am  I  not 
Christopher   Sly? 

Old  Sly's  son,  peddler  by  birth,  by  education  cord- 
maker?  by  transmutation  a  bear  herd,  and  by 
present  profession  a  tinker?  What.  I  am  not  be- 
st r  aught? 

1.  Servant.     O,  'tis  that  makes  your  lady  mourn — 

2.  Servant.    O,  this  is  it  that  makes  your  servants 
droop — 

Lord.    Hence  comes  it  that  your  kindred  shun  your 

house 

As  beaten  hence  by  your  strange  lunacy. 
O,  noble  lord  bethink  you  of  your  birth — 
Call  home  thy  ancient  thoughts  from  banishment 


134 

And  banish  hence  these  abject  lowly  dreams 
Look  how  thy  servants  do  attend  on  thee 
Each  at  his  office  ready  at  thy  beck 
Wilt  thou  have  music?  hark!  Apollo  plays. 

[Music  plays. 

And  twenty  caged  nightingales  do  sing 
Or,  wilt  thou  sleep?  We'll  have  thee  to  a  couch 
Softer  and  sweeter  than  the  grandest  bed 
Dost  thou  love  pictures?  We  will  fetch  them  straight 
Adonis  painted  by  a  running  brook — ; 
We'll  show  thee  lo,  as  she  was  a  maid; 
And  how  she  was  beguiled  and  surprised. 
Or  wilt  thou  ride?  Thy  horses  shall  be  trapped 
Their  harness  studded  all  with  gold  and  pearl. 
Thou  art  a  lord  and  nothing  but  a  lord ! 

Sly.    Am  I  a  lord  and  have  I  such  a  home? 
Or  do  I  deram;  or  have  I  dreamed  till  now? 
I  do  not  sleep,  I  see,  I  hear,  I  speak, 
I  smell  sweet  savours,  and  I  feel  soft  things — 
Upon  my  life  I  am  a  lord  indeed 
And  not  a  tinker,  nor  Christopher  Sly. 
Well  bring  my  kin  folk  hither  to  my  sight! 
And  once  again — a  pot  o'  the  Smallest  ale! 

2.   Servant.     Will't   please  your   mightiness  to  wash 
your  hands? 

[Servants  Present  Ewer,  Basin  and  Napkin. 
O,  how  all  joy  to  see  your  wit  restored! 
O,  that  once  more  you  knew  but  what  you  are ! 
These  fifteen  years  you  have  been  in  a  dream 
Or,  when  you  waked,  so  waked  as  if  you  slept. 

Sly.    These  fifteen  years?  By  my  fay  a  goodly  nap 
But  did  I  never  speak  of  all  that  time? 

I.  Servant.     O,  yes,  milord  but  very  idle  words 
For  tho  you  lay  here  in  this  goodly  chamber 
Yet  would  you  say  ye  were  beaten  out  of  door; 
And  rail  upon  the  hostess  of  the  house. 

Sly.     Now,  Lord  be  thanked  for  my  good  amends! 

All.    Amen  !   Amen  !  Amen !   etc. 

Sly.    I  thank  thee  thou  shalt  not  lose  by  it 


135 

So  I'm  a  lord,  a  great  and  mighty  lord ! 
O,  heaven  grant  I  never  dream  again ! 
Give  me  some  drink,  Boy,  drink ! 
Lord.       [Aside]  Hast  put  the  sleeping  potion  in? 
I.  Servant.     [Aside]   Ay,  milord,  he'll  sleep  straight 

way  and  wake  in  three  hours'  time. 
Lord.     [Aside]  Then  give  it  him  and  when  he  sleeps 
convey  him  back  to  his  grassy  bed  upon  the  sward — 
Sly.    Quick  with  that   drink,   why  keep  me  waiting 
here! 

[Servant  presents  drink. 

Sly.     [Drinks]   Now  leave  me  all — I'm  dying  for  a 
nap! 

Curtain. 

Queen.     Rutland  an  how  did  you  enjoy  the  play — ? 

Rutland.     My  mind  was  with  my  Essex  far  away! 

Queen.     Still  harping,  and    wouldst    still    defy    me, 

Rutland? 

Then  know  thy  doom!  Once  Roger  Earl  of  Rutland! 
We'll  call  thee  "Manners"  now 

(The  name  thy  fathers  bore  for  years  before  thee!) 
Of  all  thy  titles  art  thou  now  bereft 
As  thou  desirest  death — thou  shalt  not  suffer't — 
But  1  shall  keep  thee  lingering  year  by  year 
Until  thy  soul  escape  of  its  free  will 
To  save  all  yearning  after  liberty 
I  hereby  confiscate  thy  whole  estates, 
Out  of  the  which  I  take  a  heavy  fine, 
Thirty  thousand  pounds  of  English  gold! 
This  fine  for  writing  of  a  King's  dethronement 
And  had  the  play  performed  to  rouse  my  subjects. 
X  was  King  Richard,  know  ye  that? 
And  Essex  was  to  be  my  Bolingbroke 
But  by  your  pen  did  Richard  lose  his  crown ! 
Deny  it  if  you  dare! 

Rutland.    What  boots  denial  to  my  Sovereign? 
My  life  was  bound  in  Essex  to  the  death ! 
I've  done  and  dared — and  Essex,  he  is  slain, 


136 

I've  naught  to  wish  for — in  this  life  again! 
Of  worldly  goods,  estates  and  all,  I'm  stripped 
And  I  foresaw  my  danger  ere  I  tripped. 
But,  Queen,  I'm  richer  now  than  ere  before; 
My  Genius  will  live  forever  more ! 
I  thank  thee  gracious   Sovereign   for  thy  boon 
An  cannot  reach  the  tower  all  too  soon ! 
CURTAIN. 


SCENE  IV.    Room  in  Tower  (2  Years  After.) 
RUTLAND  at  Table  Writing. 

Rutland.     The  current  of  my  thoughts  do  worry  me! 
They  verge  to  by  ways  that  all  end  in  death. 
No  steel  or  sharpened  axe  doth  trouble  me; 
But  sudden,  unforeseen,  shall  still  my  breath. 
And  in  my  dreams  one  whispers  the  command 
That  I  end  all  with  my  reluctant  hand ! 
No  more  of  this !  let's  see  what  I  have  writ. 

[Rises  and  Comes  Forward. 
An't  takes  a  morbid  turn  I'll  smother  it. 
My  Genius,  hearken  to  my  latest  wail; 
'Tis  thee  I  speak  to,  o  mv  beauteous  boy: 

[Reads]     "O,  lest  the  world  should  task  you  to  recite, 
"What  merit  lived  in  one  that  you  should  love 
"After  my  death,  dear  love,  forget  me  quite 
"Unless  you  would  devise  some  virtuous  lie 
"For  you  in  me  can  nothing  worthy  prove, 
"To  do  more  for  me  than  mine  own  desert 
"And  hang  more  praise  upon  deceased  I 
"That  niggard  truth  would  willingly  impart. 
"O,  lest  your  true  love  may  seem  false  in  this : 
"That  you  for  love  speak  well  of  me  untrue; 
"My  name  be  buried  where  my  body  is, 
"And  live  no  more  to  shame  nor  me  nor  you. 
"For  I  am  shamed  by  that  which  I  bring  forth 
"And  so  should  you,  to  love  things  nothing  worth." 
[Speaks]  My  lady  Rutland,  poor  forsaken  child ! 
Immured  within  the  walls  of  old  Belvoir, 


137 

Forget  thy  Roger  in  this  dreary  Tower, 
For  fate  has  warned  me  of  my  quick  dissolve. 

[Knocking. 

A  knock!  Ah!  who  should  care  to  see  this  gloomy  cell 
Or  thus  break  in  upon  my  wandering  thoughts? 

Enter  PEMBROKE. 

Pembroke!  The  one  man  left  me  in  the  world, 
With  mind  to  grasp  the  secret  of  my  heart! 

[They  embrace.] 
Pemb.     I    come   to   bring     thee    cheer,     fair    cousin 

Rutland ! 

The  days  of  thy  annoyance  will  soon  pass. 
Tho  thy  release  will  come  through  dire  calamity, 
Thy  happiness  I   stake  'gainst  all  the  world! 
The  Queen  hath  taken  ill  and  now  is  dying! 
Rutland.     The  Queen  is  ill?  The  Queen  about  to  die? 
Pemb.    'Tis  even   so!     When    I    came    'way    from 

Court, 
To  carry  you  the  news,  her  mind  was  wandering ! 

Rutland.    Not  half  as  much  as  mine  I  warrant  you; 
For  knew  you  but  the  gloomy  labyrinth 
My  mind  hath  paced  in  its  bewildered  state 
These  last  two  years  I  tarried  in  these  walls 
Thou'd  pity  my  estate — ! 
Pemb.      What  morbid   fancies  now  have  seized  thy 

brain? 
Rutland.     Pembroke,   I    fear  the  moon! 

[Pointing  to  his  Forehead. 
Pemb.     Rutland,  cheer  up !  The  sun  now  waiting  for 

thee 

Will  suck  these  humors  like  he  does  the  dew, 
The  gentle  rain  will  freshen  up  thy  mind. 
And  once  without  these  walls,  thou'lt  be  thyself. 
Rutland.    Since  last  I  saw  thee,  several  moons  now 

gone, 

I  eased  my  mind  arranging  my  affairs. 
This  task  is  over  and  I've  hit  upon 
Two  men,  the  only  two  upon  this  earth, 
Whom  1  can  trust  to  manage  my  estate. 


138 

Pemb.     Forget  you,  Rutland,  thy  estate  is  void 
And  has  been  confiscated  to  the  Crown? 

Rutland.     Fie,   Pembroke,   dost  thou  think  me  mer- 
cenary, 

A  Rutland  put  ought  value  upon  gold, 
Or  vast  domains  or  aught  of  this  vile  earth — ? 
No,  Pembroke,  mark  me  well,  my  loving  friend, 

[Pointing  to  his  Forehead. 

I'd  have  thee  play  God-father  to  what's  here! 
There's  somewhat  tells  me  that  my  dissolution 
Is  but  put  off  from  day  to  day  for  me 
Until  a  certain  task  that  breedeth  there 

[Pointing  at  his  Forehead 
Shall  be  performed! 

Pemb.    An  will'st  thou  state  the  nature  of  that  task? 

Rutland.     I  cannot,  Pembroke,  but  I'll  set  it  down 
In  good  fair  script  upon  the  finest  parchment — 
I'll  seal  it  on  my  corpse — here  in  my  breast — 
And  if  the  labor  prove  too  much  for  thee 
Provision's  made!  I've  named  Montgomery 
Thy  brother,  and  my  cousin,  will  assist — 

Pemb.     [Aside]     To    humor    him    I    undertake    the 

charge. 

[Aloud}  In  all  things,  Roger,  mayst  rely  on  me, 
An  I  can  answer  for  Montgomery. 

Rutland.     I  knew  thou'lt  not  refuse  thy  cousin  Rut- 
land 

An  feel  relief  in  thy  security, 
And  should   impediments   e'er  bar  thy  way, 
Montgomery  will  order  the  affair. 
Go,   Pembroke,   stay  not  in   these  dreary  walls 
Give   me  some  leisure  to  assimilate 
The  burden  of  thy  ominous  report, 
The  portent  of  the  which  will  in  a  measure 
Necessitate  some  alteration — 

Pemb.     Farewell  then,  cousin,  think  upon  the  days 
In  store  for  thee  now  that  the  Queen  must  die. 

Rutland.     If  my  remaining  here  could  spare  her  life 
I'd  have  myself  immured  within  a  dungeon, 


139 

Where  only  Death,  while  bearing  her  away 
Would  take  me  with  him  for  her  company.      , 

Pemb.    Loyal  to  the  last!   Farewell  my  cousin! 

[E*it. 

Rutland.     Elizabeth?  an  art  thou  fall'n  so  low, 
That  tongue  declines  to  utter  thy  commands? 
Canst  thou  distinguish  now  'twixt  friend  and  foe, 
Art  seeking  refuge  at  Death's  clammy  hands? 
Long  may  you  live,  my  Queen!  Thy  glorious  reign 
Can  ne'er  be  duplicated  here  on  earth  again ! 

[Sits  Down  at  Table,  Picks  up  Mss. 
Once  more  I  will  peruse  these  idle  lines 
To  scatter  thoughts  distracting  to  my  mind. 
My  Genius,  hearken  to  this  doleful  song ! 
[Reads]  "But  be  contented — when  that  fell  arrest, 
"Without  all  bail,  shall  carry  me  away, 
"My  life  hath  in  this  line  some  interest 
"Which  for  memorial  still  with  thee  shall  stay. 
"When  thou  reviewest  this,  thou  dost  review 
"The  very  part  was  consecrate  to  thee — 
"The  earth  can  have  but  earth,  which  is  his  due, 
"My  spirit  is  thine — the  better  part  of  me. 
"So  then  thou  hast  but  lost  the  dregs  of  life, 
"The  prey  of  worms — my  body  being  dead; 
"The  coward  conquest  of  a  wretch's  knife 
"Too  base  of  thee  to  be  remembered. 
"The  worth  of  that  is  that  which  it  contains. 
"And  that  is  this — and  this  with  thee  remains!" 
[Speaks]  The  same  dull  thought  will  still  pervade  my 

lines; 

I  must  not  take  my  life,  my  God  forbids  it ! 
And  that  dark  fiend  within  me  drives  me  on ! 
I  must  forsake  my  pen  when  thus  my  mind 
Unconsciously  doth  drift  into  the  grave. 
I'll  write  a  rondelay  if  but  my  muse  is  kind. 
And  banish  thoughts  that  of  oblivion  rave — 

[Sits  down  to  write.1 

Fate  is  against  me,  now  my  quill  is  spent! 
(And  I'll  not  see  the  gaoler  until  morn) 


140 

Thus  fortune  wills  it  that  I  give  full  vent 
To  thcit  dread,  doleful  topic,  I've  forsworn ! 
This  proves  that  a  Divinity  above  us 
Shapes  all  our  ends  to  demonstrate  He  love  us—- 
For had  my  brain  forged  out  a  rondelay 
'Twould  be  but  proof  my  mind  had  gone  astray! 

[Knocking. 

Another  savior  knocking  at  the  door 
Rutland  thou'rt  in  luck,  what  would  you  more? 

Enter  MONTGOMERY. 

Welcome,  Montgomery  my  dear  good  Coz., 
An  how's  the  world  with  thee? 
Congratulate  thyself,  for  entre  nous, 
You've  saved  a  soul  by  dropping  in  on  me! 

Mont.     Happy  am  I,  dear  cousin,  if  I  have 
Contributed  one  moment's  cheerfulness 
To  thee  in  these  thy  dreary  rockbound  walls, 
I'd  suffer  anything  to  see  you  free — 
Forsooth, — remain  in  these  vile  walls  for  thee! 

Rutland.    Cousin  Montgomery  I  can  read  thy  heart 
But  words,  embryo  in  my  aching  breast, 
Are  not  yet  born  to  thank  thee  as  I  wish! 

Mont.     I've  news  for  thee,  and  all  may  yet  be  well ! 
And  hope  to  see  you  free  within  a  month, 
When  Scottish  James  once  issues  from  his  shell 
Thy  fortune's  made ! 

Rutland.    How  mean  you,  cousin,  that  my  fortune's 
made? 

Mont.    The  Queen  hath  struck,  but  she  is  not  yet 

dead; 
The  Crown  is  taking  shape  of  James's  head! 

Rutland.    An  could  I  give  my  all,  my  life  to  boot 
To  re-imbue  Elizabeth  with  life, 
Cousin,  I'd  do't! 

Mont.     So  speaks  a  loyal  Englishman,  dear  Roger! 
But  there  are  those  around  the  dying  Queen, 
Now  reckoning  up  their  profits  on  her  death! 
And  those  who  hate  the  Scotch  the  very  worst 
Are  shaping  phrases  to  enchant  King  James ! 


141 

Rutland.     Cousin,  a  true  heart,  e'er  despiseth  praise 
For  thoughts  engendered  by  a  loving  God! 
I'd  be  but  like  a  cur  did  I  not  speak 
The  thoughts  implanted  with  my  very  life! 
Let's  change  the  subject,  my  Montgomery 
For  I  have  weighty  words  to  speak  to  thee ! 

Mont.     Say  on,  fair  coz,  but  know  before  you  start 
That  Pembroke  hath  informed  me  of  a  part, 

Rutland.    To  make  it  short,  the  matter's  simply  this : 
The  several  plays  I've  written  for  the  stage, 
And  some  of  which  have  played  upon  the  boards, 
Are  all  collected  in  the  manuscript, 
And  ready  for  the  Stationer's  entry. 

Mont.     I  am  amazed  coz,  at  thy  industry ! 

Rutland.     The  labor  was  but  light,  the  numbers  flew 
By  energy  composed  by  unseen  powers; 
The  seeds  I  spread  upon  my  parchment  grew 
As  if  by  magic  into  fragrant  flowers ! 
Praise  not,  therefore,  my  industry  or  will, 
I'm  but  the  medium  of  One  higher  still. 

[Pauses — Walks  up  and  down. 

Mont,     Pardon  the  interruption,  pray  proceed 
With  the  injunction  thou  would's  lay  upon  me. 

Rutland.    'Tis  simply  this,  when  all  my  work  is  done, 
Pembroke  and  you  at  once  take  all  control; 
Have  entry  made  at  Stationer's  Hall, 
With  dedication  printed  to  you  two — . 
Arrange  with  Burbage,  Heminge  and  Condell 
Without  producing  any  manuscript, 
To  give  permission  of  their  several  names 
To  foot  the  dedication. 

Mont.    I  can  and  shall  procure  these  signatures. 

Rutland.     Now  mark  me  well,  good  coz.  Montgomery, 
I  will  that  ten  full  years  shall  first  have  flown 
Before  these  manuscripts  go  into  print 
And  these  ten  years  commencing  on  the  day 
When  Roger  Rutland's  body  turns  to  clay — 
And  should,  when  these  ten  years  shall  have  gone  by, 
Some  unforeseen  impediment  appear, 


142 

Fear  not  delay,  for  there's  no  reason  why 
The  matter  should  not  rest  another  year — 

Mont.     Rely  on  Pembroke  and  myself,  dear  Coz. 
To  follow  your  instructions  faithfully. 

[Knocking. 
RUT.   Goes  to   the  Door  to   Bar  Entrance  and  Door 

Opens. 

Rutland.     What  now,  I  cannot  be  disturbed;  but  stay 
Who  is  it,  what's  his  errand? 
Gaoler  at  Door.    Tis  that  great  hulk,  comparisoned 

as   Falstaff. 
Rutland.    An  what  knowst  thou  of  Falstaff,  good  my 

man? 

Gaoler.     I  saw  him  at  the  play  the  other  night, 
An  recognized  his  trappings  on  the  spot ; 
And  when  I  chid  him,  he  made  some  defense 
That  burkers  robbed  his  lodgings  whilst  he  slept, 
Obliging  him  to  rob  the  tiring  room 
For  requisite  apparel  to  come  here — 

Rutland.     Montgomery,  here  is   sport!      Admit  him 

then! 
Mont.    All  pleases  me  that  drives  thy  cares  away! 

Enter  SHAXPER  (attired  as  Falstaff.) 
Rutland.    Now,  by  the  Gods,   an  must  these  heavy 

walls 

Resound  with   merriment   and   laughter? 
Ha,  ha!  an  has  some  fairy  hand  stretched  forth 
An  placed  me  on  the  Globe's  resounding  boards? 
(Mont,  also  laughts  heartily — Shax  stands  as  tho 

dumbfounded) 

Art  thou  an  apparition?     Do  I  dream? 
Art  thou  my  William  Shaxper,  or  fat  Falstaff? 
That  I  created  to  amuse  Prince  Hal? 

Shax:.    Tho  in  a  garb  unseemly  to  my  station, 
I  did  consider  not  the  trick  of  eye — 
But  hastened  to  these  blood  bespotted  walls 
To  bring  you  tidings  of  a  sad  affair ! 

Rutland.    How  true  the  sage  remark  that  the  Sublime 
Is  spaced  from  Ridicule  by  but  a  line ! 


143 
Mont.    Come,  cut  it  short!    What  is  the  news  thou 

bringest? 

Shax.     The  Queen  is  dead! 
Rutland.     My  God! 
Mont,    You  are  saved ! 

CURTAIN. 


ACT   IV 

SCENE  I.     Throne  Room   (KING  JAMES  I.  on  Throne.) 
Courtiers,   Ladies,   Pages  and   Small   Platform   Stage 

for  Players — Enter  PEMBROKE. 
King  James.    Milord  of  Pembroke,  are  arrangements 

met 

For  the  production  of  that  Falstaff  scene 
Where  pert  Prince  Hall  doth  nail  some  monstrous  lies? 
•    Pemb.     My  liege,  all  is  in  readiness. 

King  James.     Before  we  do  begin  at  merry  making 
Have  both  the  Earls  of  Rutland  and  Southampton 
And  both  their  ladies  brought  before  me  here! 
RUTLAND,    SOUTHAMPTON,   and   LADIES   R.   AND   S. 

also  MONTGOMERY  and  BACON. 
King  James.     Milords,  no  doubt  you've  heard  of  my 

desire, 

That  both  of  you  be  fully  reinstated 
To  all  of  that  of  which  you  were  deprived 
By  complications  in  the  previous  reign — 
(They  kneel  and  rise  again.) 

Rutland.    I  thank  your  majesty  with  all  my  heart! 
Southampton.    Words    fail   me,    Sir,   but   this   stout 

heart  of  mine 

Is  yours  from  this  day  forth! 

Lady  South.    Your  Majesty  has  caused  great  hap- 
piness— 


144 

Lady  Rut.    That  will  reflect  upon  your  glorious  reign ! 
King  James.    An  glad  i  am  I've  added  to  my  court 
Two  families,  for  long  the  pride  of  England. 
Now,   let  the  play  begin,   an  you  milords  and  ladies, 

find  places  where  your  view  is  to  advantage. 
(General  bustle  arranging  seats  and  stage  for  players.) 
[Exit  Pembroke  and  Montgomery. 

GADSHILL  SCENE. 
SCENE.    Boar's  Head  Tavern. 
PRINCE  HAL  and  POINS  Seated  at  Table. 
Enter  FALSTAFF,  GADSHILL,  BARDOLPH  and  PETO. 
Poins.     Welcome,  Jack,  where  hast  thou  been? 
Falstaff.    A  plague  on  all  cowards,  I  say,  and  a  ven- 
geance too,  marry,  and  amen! 

Give  me  a  cup  of  sack,  boy.  [Boy  Brings  Drink. 

Ere  I  lead  this  life  long,  I'll  sew  nethersocks 
An  mend  them,  an  foot  them,  too — 
A  plague  of  all  cowards !    Give  me  a  cup  of  sack. 
Rogue — Is  there  no  virtue  extant? 

(He  drinks  and  then  continues) 
You  rogue,  there's  lime  in  this  sack  too. 
There's  nothing  but  roguery  to  be  found  in  villainous 

man — 
Yet  a  coward  is  worse  than  a  cup  of  sack  with  lime  in 

it;  a  villainous  coward.     Go  thy  ways, 
Old  Jack,  die  when  thou  wilt.     If  manhood  be  not  for- 
got upon  earth — then  I  am  a  shotten  herring. 
There  live  not  three  good  men  unhanged  in  England 

and  one  of  them  is  fat  and  grows  old. 
I    would    I    were    a   weaver — I    could    sing   psalms    or 

anything — A  plague  of  all  cowards !     I  say  still. 
Prince.     How   now,   woolsack,   what  mutter  you? 
Falstaff.     A  King's  Son !     If  I  do  not  beat  thee  out  of 
thy  kingdom  with  a  dagger  of  lath,  and  drive  all 
thy  subjects  afore  thee  like  a  flock  of  wild  geese, 
I'll  never  wear  hair  on  my  face  'more — You  Prince 
of  Wales ! 

Prince.     Why,  you  villainous  round  man,  what's  the 
matter? 


THE  MURDER  OF 

see  King  Henry.VI,  part 


145 
Falstaff.    Are  you  not  a  coward?    Answer  me  that — 

and  Poins  there? 

Poins.  Zounds !  ye  fat  paunch,  an  ye  call  me  coward, 
I'll  stab  thee ! 

Falstaff.    I  call  thee  coward?    I'll  see  thee  hanged 

e're  I  call  thee  coward; 

But  I'd  give  a  thousand  pounds  I  could  run  as  fast  as 
thou  canst.  You  are  straight  enough  in  the  shoul- 
ders, you  care  not  who  sees  your  back — Call  you 
that  backing  of  your  friends?  A  plague  upon  such 
backing !  Give  me  them  that  will  face  me — Give  me 
a  cup  of  sack — I'm  a  rogue  if  I  drank  to-day. 

Prince.  O,  villain!  thy  lips  are  scarce  wiped  since 
thou  drinkest  last! 

Falstaff.  All's  one  for  that  (drinks')  A  plague  of  ill 
cowards,  still  say  I; 

Prince.    What's  the  matter? 

Falstaff.  What's  the  matter!  There  be  four  of  us 
here  have  taken  a  thousand  pounds  this  morning! 

Prince.    Where  is  it,  Jack?    Where  is  it? 

Falstaff.  Where  is  it !  taken  from  us  it  is — a  hundred 
upon  poor  four  of  us — 

Prince.    What,  a  hundred,  man? 

Falstaff.  I  am  a  rogue  if  I  was  not  at  half  sword 
with  a  dozen  of  them  two  hours  together — I  have 
'scaped  by  miracle — I  am  eight  times  thrust  through 
the  doublet ;  four  through  the  hose ;  my  buckler  cut 
through  and  through.  My  sword  hacked  like  a  hand 
saw:  Ecce  Signum!  I  never  dealt  better  since  I 
was  a  man:  All  would  not  do — A  plague  of  all 
cowards!  Let  them  speak  (pointing  to  Gadshill). 
Bardolph — Peto,  an  if  they  speak  more  or  less  than 
Truth,  they  are  villains  and  the  sons  of  darkness. 

Prince.     Speak,  Sirs,  how  was  it? 

Gads.     We  four  set  upon  some  dozen — 

Falstaff.     Sixteen  at  least,  my  lord. 

Gads.    And  bound  them. 

Peto.     No,  no,  they  were  not  bound — 

Falstaff.  You  rogue,  they  were  bound,  every  man  of 
them. 


146 

Gads.  As  we  were  sharing — some  six  or  seven  fresh 
men  set  upon  us — 

Falstaff.  And  bound  the  rest;  and  then  came  in  the 
other— 

Prince.    What,   fought  ye  with  them  all? 

Falstaff.  All  ?  I  know  not  what  you  call  all ;  but  if  I 
fought  not  with  fifty  of  them  I  am  a  bunch  of 
radish.  If  there  were  not  two  or  three  and  fifty 
upon  old  Jack,  then  I  am  no  two  legged  creature ! 

Prince.  Pray,  heaven,  you  have  not  murdered  some 
of  them. 

Falstaff.  Nay,  that's  past  praying  for.  I  have  pep- 
pered two  of  them.  Two  I  am  sure  I  have  paid — 
two  rogues  in  buckram  suits.  I  tell  thee  what,  Hal, 
if  I  tell  thee  a  lie,  spit  in  my  face  and  call  me  a 
horse.  Thou  knowest  my  old  ward.  Here  I  lay, 
and  thus  I  bore  my  point  Four  rogues  in  buck- 
ram let  drive  at  me — 

Prince.     What !  Four  ?  Thou  saidst  but  two  even  now. 

Falstaff.    Four,  Hal,  I  told  thee  four. 

Poins.     Ay,  ay,  he  said  four — 

Falstaff.  These  four  came  all  afront  and  mainly 
thrust  at  me.  I  made  no  more  ado  and  took  all 
their  seven  points  in  my  target  thus • 

Prince.  Seven?  Why  there  were  but  four  even 
now — 

Poins.    Ay,  four  in  buckram  suits. 

Falstaff.  Seven  by  these  hilts,  or  I  am  a  villain 
else— 

Prince.  Prithee,  let  him  alone,  we  shall  have  more 
anon — 

Falstaff.    Dost  thou  hear  me,  Hal? 

Prince.    Ay,  and  mark  thee  too,  Jack. 

Falstaff.  Do  so,  for  it  is  worth  the  listening  to. 
These  nine  men  in  buckram  I  told  thee  of — 

Prince.    So,  two  more  already. 

Falstaff.  — — their  points  being  broken,  began  to 
give  ground;  but  followed  me  close;  came  in  foot 
and  hand;  and,  with  a  thought,  seven  of  the  eleven 
I  paid. 


147 

Prince.  O,  monstrous!  Eleven  buckram  men  grown 
out  of  two! 

Falstaff.  But  three  knaves  in  kendal  green  came  at 
my  back  and  let  drive  at  me;  for  it  was  so  dark 
Hal,  that  thou  couldst  not  see  thy  hand. 

Prince.  These  lies  are  like  the  father  that  begets 
them,  gross  as  a  mountain,  open,  palpable — why, 
thou  clay  brained  paunch;  thou  knot  pated  fool, 
thou  greasy  tallow  keech — 

Falstaff.  What!  art  thou  mad?  Is  not  the  truth 
the  truth? 

Prince.  Why  how  couldst  thou  know  these  men  in 
kendal  green  when  it  was  so  dark  thou  couldst 
not  see  thy  hand? 

Come,    tell    us    your    reason?    What    sayest    thou    to 
this? 

Poins.     Come  your  reason,  Jack,  your  reason. 

Falstaff.  What,  upon  compulsion?  No,  were  I  at 
the  Strapado,  or  all  the  racks  in  the  world  I'd  not 
tell  upon  compulsion!  If  reasons  were  as  plentiful 
as  blackberries  I  would  give  no  man  a  reason  upon 
compulsion,  I. 

Prince.  I'll  be  no  longer  guilty  of  this  sin :  this 
sanguine  coward,  this  horseback  breaker;  this  huge 
hill  of  flesh 

Falstaff.  Away,  you  starveling;  you  eel  skin;  you 
dried  neat's  tongue;  you  stockfish — O,  for  breath 
to  utter  what  is  like  thee!  You  tailor's  yard;  you 
sheath ;  you  bow  case ;  you  vile  standing  tuck, — 

Prince.  Well,  breathe  awhile,  and  then  to  it  again, 
and  when  thou  hast  tired  thyself  in  base  compari- 
sons, hear  me  speak  but  this — 

Poins.     Mark,  Jack. 

Prince.  We  two  saw  you  four  set  on  four,  you 
bound  them;  then  did  we  two  set  on  you  four, 
outfaced  you  from  your  prize,  and  have  it — and, 
Falstaff,  you  carried  your  paunch  away  as  nimbly 
as  with  quick  dexterity  and  roared  for  mercy — and 
still  ran  and  roared  as  ever  I  heard  bull  calf.  Ha, 


I48 

hack  thy  sword  and  say  it  was  in  fight ! 
Falstaff.    Ha,  ha !  I  knew  ye  as  well  as  he  that  made 

ye— 
Why,  hear  ye  my  masters,  was  it  for  me  to  kill  the 

heir  apparent?    Should  I  turn  upon  the  true  prince? 
Why  thou  knowest  I  am  as  valiant  as  Hercules;  but 

beware  of  instinct. 
The  lion  will  not  touch  the  true  prince.    Instinct  is  a 

great  matter; 
I  was  a  coward  on  instinct.    I  shall  think  the  better 

of  myself  and  thee  during  my  life.    I  for  a  valiant 

lion,  and  thou  for  a  true  prince.     But,  lads,  I  am 

glad  you  got  the  money. 

Hostess,  clap  to  the  doors — watch  to-night — pray  to- 
morrow. 
Gallants,  lads,  boys,  hearts  of  gold,  all  titles  of  good 

fellowship  come  to  you!    What,  shall  we  be  merry? 
Shall  we  have  a  play  extempora? 
Prince.    Content;    and    the    argument   shall   be   thy 

running  away. 
Falstaff.    Ah,  no  more  of  that.    Hal,  an  thou  lovest 

me. 

Curtain. 

Re-enter   PEMBROKE  and   MONTGOMERY. 
Rutland.    Cousins,  you  were  delayed,  I  take  it, 
An  that  you  have  missed  the  play  but  now  concluded. 
Pemb.    We  were  in  time  to  see  the  latter  end — 
Mont.    But  tarried  at  the  door  not  to  intrude. 
Lady  South.    How   like   the   actor   Shaxper   is   that 

Falstaff! 
No  need  for  him  to  wig  and  dress  the  part. 

Rutland.    That  is  the  secret  of  the  author's  art, 
In  his  successfully  depicting  life! 
Southampton.    And   not   resemble   pasteboard   mani- 
kins 
Hung  upon  wires  for  manipulation ! 

King  James.     Milord  Montgomery,  kindly  look  with- 
out and  if  the  author  lias  not  yet  departed 
Bring  him  to  me,  I  would  have  speech  with  him. 


149 

Mont.    I  will  return  with  Master  Shaxper  in  a 

minute.  [Exit  Mont. 

King  James,    (to  Rutland)  "That  Falstaff  is  a  char- 
acter I  dote  upon,  milord  Rutland,  and  on  the  mor- 
row we  shall  have  the  'The  Merry  Wives/" 
Rutland.  The  character,  I  take  it,  is  played  without  the 

blemishes  that  art  would  bring. 

For  to  the  audiences  at  the  show,  as  'mongst  his 
friends  at  home  or  on  the  street  the  actor  and  his 
Falstaff  are  the  same. 

Enter   SHAXPER   and   MONTGOMERY. 

Shax.    The   King, — the   King  has   sent   for   me 

(aside)  The  Lord  defend  my  making  any  slips. 
King    James.     Step    hither,     Master  Shaxper,     thou 

playst   well. 

How  long  a  time  hast  thou  devoted  to  it? 
Shax.    The  part  of  Falstaff — or  the  art  of  playing? 
Rutland,     (aside)  The  part  of  Falstaff  played  he  all 

his  life— 

King  James.    Stage  playing  as  a  living;  a  profession. 
Shax.     Since  ninety-three  or  thereabouts,  I  reckon, 
An  may  it  please  your  gracious  majesty. 
King  James.     An  laborest  long  and  hard  at  writing 

plays  ? 

Like  an  automaton  worked  by  the  muses 
Produces  stuff  rythmetical  as  thine — ? 
Shax.    'Tis  so,  my  King,  the  Lord  is  good  to  me ! 
Rutland,     (aside)  An  if  the  King  but  knew  the  lord 

he  meant — 

King  James.     To  satisfy  a  fancy  of  my  mood 
I  pray  you  take  some  paper  and  a  quill, 
And  write  me  such  an  offspring  of  thy  brain 
The  while  we  stand  and  wait  upon  thy  muse ! 
(to  courtier)  Bring  paper,  ink  and  pen  without  delay! 
Rutland,  (aside)  Poor  fellow,  now  indeed  I  pity  him ! 

(paper,  pen  and  ink  are  brought — ) 
Shax.  sits  at  table  and  muses  (near  front) — 
Shax.     (aside)  Pray  God  in  Heaven,  help  me  out  in 
this; 


ISO 

I  cannot  write  much  more  than  mine  own  name 

And  that  resembles  more  a  chicken's  scratch 

That  puts  the  art  of  writing  to  the  shame. 

Thank  God !  I  have  it.     'Tis  an  epilogue — 

I   did  compose  an  epilogue  unto  the  "Tempest" 

This  Master  Jonson  did  write  down  for  me, 

When  I  feigned  laziness,  when  he  did  ask — 

I  know  the  lines  by  heart.     But  aye,  to  write  them, 

Stumps  my  ability ! 

I'll  make  some  scratches  to  resemble  script, 

And  sign  my  name  as  all  the  world  shall  know  it! 

This  epilogue  were  easier  to  be  lipped 

Then  make  a  scrawl  like  this  and  then  to  show  it! 

Here  goes !  (feigns  writing) 

King  James,     (to  Rutland)  It  doth  appear  his  muse 

is  not  at  home 
Or  is  the  fellow  writing  a  whole  tome? 

Rutland.    Ascribe   delaying  to   his  nervousness 
(aside)  Whate'er  he  writes  is  sure  to  be  a  mess ! 

Shax.     (rising  and  holding  paper) 
I  be<?  my  gracious  King  for  his  permission 
To  speak  the  lines  my  muse  hath  brought  to  me. 

King  James.    Aye,  then  recite  them  but  give  me  the 
script. 

Shax.    It  is  an  epilogue  I  had  intended 
To  grace  the  ending  of  my  latest  play. 
'Tis  of  a  tempest  with  much  magic  blended. 
The  play  and  this — will  be  in  print  one  day. 

(Hands  Paper  to  King.) 
(Recites) 

"Now  my  charms  are  all  o'erthrown 
"And  what  strength  I  have's  my  own 
"Which  is  most  faint — now  'tis  true 
"I  must  be  here  confin'd  by  you 
"Or  sent  to  Naples.    Let  me  not 
"Since  I  have  my  dukedom  got 
"And  pardoned  the  deceiver,  dwell 
"In  this  bare  island  by  your  spell 
"But  release  me  from  my  bands 


ST.  PETER  J^tUP  VINCULA, 
where  Essex  lies  buried 
within  the  Tower  Walls. 


"With  the  help  of  your  good  hands." 

Rutland,     (aside)    What  execrable  jargon  is  this 
An  must  my  gold  thus  be  alloyed 
With  such  base  metal? 

King  James.     The  muse,  my  good  master  Shaxper, 

has  not  been 

Quite  as  propitious  as  would  be  her  wont. 
I  miss  the  rhythm  and  the  silver  ring 
As  in  the  plays,  where  numbers  fairly  sing! 

Shax.     Indeed,   I'm  helpless  here  in  all  this  glare; 
'Tis  my  indisposition  lays  me  bare! 
(aside)  When  will  this  end — O,  I  am  on  the  rack! 
I  hope  the  King  gives  me  that  paper  back. 

King  James,     (looking  at  writing  on  paper) 
In  looking  at  the  writing  on  this  sheet 
Instead  of  quill — reminds    .     of  chicken's  feet — 
God  help  us,  if  the  plays  that  thou  hast  writ 
In  all  your  manuscripts  resemble,  it! 
For  not  a  word  of  this  can  I  make  out 
Thy  labor's  difficult  without  a  doubt. 
Go,  Master  Shaxper,  at  another  time 
Thou  furnish  better — both  in  script  and  rhyme! 
CURTAIN. 


SCENE  II.    Room  in  Belvoir  Castle. 
Seat  of  the  Earl  of  Rutland.    Nine  Years  After. 

(June  26,   1612.) 
Rutland  seated  at  table  near  a  statue  of  Pallas  with 

Spear. 

Rutland.    The  day  has  come,  and  it  is  none  too  soon 
To  carry  out  what  long  was  in  my  mind. 
Hold  Rutland  guiltless — blame  it  on  the  moon 
That  shone  upon  my  pact  when  it  was  signed ! 
The  plays  and  other  numbers  that  I've  writ 
Must  never  own  the  author  of  their  birth 
The  house  of  Rutland  dare  not  own  a  wit 
Who  pandered  to  the  common  rabble's  mirth. 
Of  all  intention  Rutland  hath  no  blame 


152 

My  muse  flowed  from  an  overeager  quill 

That  balked  at  nothing  but  at  Rutland's  name — 

Was  independent  of  the  writer's  will. 

(Walks  Back  and  Forth)  Takes  Mss.  From  the  Table. 

An  if  these  lines  e'er  meet  with  curious  eyes 

That  cannot  fathom  their  express  intent — 

'Tis  just  as  well,  their  portent  never  dies. 

They  never  could  be  read  as  they  were  meant! 

My  beauteous  boy,  my  Genius,  thee  I  praise! 

Thou  sole  companion  of  my  Tower  days. 

To  thee,  my  various  sonnets  are  addressed; 

To  thee,  my  Genius,  was  my  love  expressed, 

To  thee,  thou  Master-Mistress  of  my  passion 

Was  my  devotion  thus  expressed  in  song; 

To  thee,  sweet  boy,  who  understood  the  fashion 

To  thee,  my  Genius,  does  myself  belong! 

Let  vicious  and  lascivious  minds  endeavor, 

By  misinterpretation  point  to  lust; 

Degenerate  minds  will  not  hold  sway  forever, 

A  newborn  era  will  break  through  their  crust! 

The  several  stanzas  to  my  Muse  I've  penned 

Speak  plainly — so  that  all  may  comprehend. 

This  dame  was  fair  and  curst,  inconstant  ever 

And  oft  severely  hampered  my  endeavor! 

To  Pembroke,  cousin  and  executor, 

Goes  everything  my  Muse  has  made  me  write 

'Twas  he  that  recognized  my  Genius,  when 

That  beauteous  boy  brought  both  of  us  delight ! 

My  Genius  'tis,  whom  I've  immortalized, 

In  all  the  glorious  children  of  my  brain, 

In  Hamlet  and  in  Lear  he  crystallized, 

The  jewels  of  his  philosophic  reign ! 

Yes,  my  sweet  boy,  my  Genius,  'tis  to  thee — 

I  bring  in  these  lines  immortality: — 

(reads) 

"Not  marble — not  the  gilded  monuments 
"Of  princes  shall  outlive  this  powerful  rhyme. 
"But  you  shall  shine  more  bright  in  these  contents, 
"Than  unswept  stone  besmeared  with  sluttish  time. 


153 

"When  wasteful  war  shall  statues  overturn, 
"And  broils  root  out  the  work  of  masonry, 
"Nor  Mars  his  sword,  nor  war's  quick  fire  shall  burn 
"The  living  record  of  your  memory. 
"  'Gainst  death  and  all-oblivious  enmity 
"Shall  you  pace  forth— your  praise  shall  still  find  room, 
"Even  in  the  eyes  of  all  posterity, 
"That  wear  this  world  out  to  the  ending  doom. 
"So,  till  the  judgment  that  yourself  arise, 
"You  live  in  this,  and  dwell  in  lover's  eyes." 

(speaks) 

When  ages  hence  these  lines  again  see  light 
Their  understanding  still  will  hover  dark 
And  philosophic  fancy  in  its  flight 
May  strike  these  stars  and  not  emit  a  spark! 

Enter  LADY  RUTLAND. 

(Closely  observing  Rutland,  who  is  walking  to  and  fro 

whilst  speaking  Prosperous  lines 

in    "Tempest.") 

Rutland.    "Ye  elves  of  hills,  brooks,  standing  lakes 

and  groves 

"And  ye  that  on  the  sands  with  printless  foot 
"Do  chase  the  ebbing  Neptune — do  not  fly  him 
"When  he   comes   back   *   *   * 
"To  the  dread  rattling  thunder  have  I  given  fire 
"And  rifted  Jove's  stout  oak  with  his  own  bolt  *  *  * 
"By  my  so  potent  art — 
"But  this  rough  magic  I  here  abjure 
"And  when  I  have  requir'd  some  heavenly  music 
"Which  even  now  I  do  (soft  music) 
"To  work  my  end  upon  their  senses  that 
"This  airy  charm  is  for,  I'll  break  my  staff, 
"Bury  it  certain  fathoms  in  the  earth 
"And,  deeper  than  did  ever  plummet  sound 
"I'll  drown  my  book." 

Lady  Rut.    Do  still  these  darksome  humors  trouble 

thee? 

Forbear,  O  Roger,  thou  art  killing  me. 
Cannot  I  drive  thy  morbid  thoughts  away? 


154 

Then  let  thy  wife  fall  likewise  to  their  prey. 
These  walls  tho  lined  with  the  brightest  gold 
Appear,  with  thee  so  ill,  decayed  and  old; 
Come,  Roger,  bear  thee  up  and  end  this  strife; 
Admit  some  sunshine  in  thy  dreary  life. 

Rutland.    Elizabeth,  thou  angel  of  my  soul ! 
Thinkst  thou  I  am  the  author  of  my  woe? 
No,   sweetheart,   search   where   ominous  thunders  roll, 
Or  in  the  ocean's  depth  where  lurks  my  foe; 
Far  beyond  reach  of  those  soft  hands  of  thine, 
And  too  elusive  for  the  grasp  of  mine. 

Lady  Rut.    Nay,  let  us  walk  about  the  garden  path, 
And  cull  some  fragrant  flowers  growing  there. 
We'll  thus  escape  thy  jealous  demon's  wrath, 
While  sucking  in  the  fresh  healthgiving  air — 
Come,  Roger,  let  thy  wife  not  plead  in  vain. 
Invite  some  sunshine  to  thy  gloomy  brain ! 

Rutland.    I'm  chained,  my  love,  I  cannot  stir  a  step; 
Go  forth  alone  and  leave  me  to  my  doom. 
Too  late,  my  darling  wife,  now  for  regret 
I'm  doomed,  my  wife,  to  never  leave  this  room. 

Lady  Rut.    Had  God  but  given  us  a  little  child, 
I  feel  thy  mind  would  ne'er  have  been  beguiled ! 
I'll  go  before,  and  there  prepare  a  seat, 
And  you  will  come  to  me.    Now,  won't  you,  sweet? 

Rutland.    Go,  my  Elizabeth,  if  I  have  strength 
To  break  the  bonds  now  holding  me  in  check, 
My  last  endeavor  may  succeed  in  length 
When  I  will  fly  to  meet  thy  yearning  beck ! 

Lady  Rut.     I  go,  my  Roger,  keep  me  not  too  long. 

[Exit  Lady  Rut. 

Rutland.    Farewell,  fair  girl,  we'll  never  meet  again! 
The  Demon  calleth.     All  resistance  vain! 

(takes  vial  from  bosom) 

This  brings  to  mind  the  words  young  Hamlet  spake : 
To  be  or  not  to  be ;  to  sleep,  to  wake, 
To  suffer  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune 
Or  to  take  arms  agaist  them. 
E'en  then  when  Goddess  Pallas  did  dictate 


155 

Those  lines  to  me  in  my  receptive  state 
I  felt  their  drift  work  through  the  thick  walled  Tower. 
That  this  would  be  my  last— my  dying  hour ! 
The  month  of  June,  when  all  the  world  is  gay, 
Hath  been  ordained  to  see  me  pass  away! 
Even  then  my  ever  beckoning  muse  did  fix 

(sits   down) 

The  very  day — to-day!  June  twenty-six! 
Farewell,  Elizabeth,  a  long  farewell! 
(drinks  from  vial) 
E'en  now  I  hear  to-morrov?s  tolling  bell! 

(reclines  on  couch) 

At  last,  thou  Demon,  thus  art  thou  defied — 
Thy  triumph  came  when  Rutland  Shake-Speare  died ! 

(Dies.) 

Enter  LADY  RUTLAND. 
Lady  Rut.    I  could  not  tarry,  Roger,— ah,  he  sleeps! 

(Kisses  hint) 

So  still,  so  soft,  so  calm— but,  O,  the  dread! 
Roger!  Wake  up!  my  husband,  thou  art  dead! 
What's  life  to  me  with  Rutland  in  his  grave. 
The  vial's  still  half  full;  I  will  be  brave! 

(Drinks)  Kneels  by  Rutland,  embracing  him. 
Thus  let  us  rest  whatever  may  betide, 
In  close  embrace  we  sleep  hence  side  by  side! 

(Dies.) 


156 


EPILOGUE. 

The  Statue  of  Pallas,  Spear  in  Hand,  Descends  From 
Pedestal   and   Comes   Forward. 

Pallas.    Know,  I  am  Pallas,  which  denoteth  "Shake" 
And  this,  my  spear,  is  ever  at  my  side 
'Twas  I  who  made  the  noble  Rutland  take 
My  name  'neath  which  his  writings  were  to  hide ! 
His  soul,  now  fled,  hath  lodged  within  my  shell 
To  tarry,  whilst  I  point  out  with  this  lance 
The  Truth,  and  in  Truth's  name  I  speak  to  tell 
'Twas  "brandished  at  the  face  of  ignorance!" 
Three  hundred  years  'tis  now  the  Truth  lay  dead 
Whilst  Literature  worshipped  at  another's  shrine 
Where  blind  led  the  blind  and  ignorance  was  fed 
I,  standing  by,  till  now  would  give  no  sign! 
For  every  year  of  Rutland's  stay  on  earth, 
Until  there  stormed  a  "Tempest"  in  his  brain, 
He  wrote  One  play  of  excellence  and  worth 
And  our  "Prospero"  ne'er  touched  pen  again! 
The  day  hath  come,  and  Truth  compels  my  speech: 
Our  author  lies  near  beautiful  Belvoir! 
Now  let  the  Owls  'round  Stratford  churchyard  screech, 
Whilst  Pallas  bids  the  public  au  revoir ! 


157 


L  '  E  N  V  O  I 
THE  BIRTH   OF  THE  FOLIO 

Describing  how  the  Works  of  William  Shakes-Speare 

came  to  be  published  in  the  great 

Folio  of  1623 

and 

Why  a  monument  and  bust  were  erected  in  the 
Church  at  Stratford-on-Avon,  near 

the   grave  of 

WILLIAM    SHAXPER, 

Dummy  and  Strawman  for 

ROGER    MANNERS, 

Sth  Earl  of  Rutland.    ' 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE. 

PHILIP  HERBERT,  Earl  of  Montgomery     Cousin*  and  Lit~ 

WILL.IAM  HERBERT,  Earl  of  Pembroke     mry  ****?* 

to  Rutland. 

HENRY  WRIOTHESLY,  Earl  of  Southampton.. Friend  and 

kinsman  of  Rutland 

BEN  JONSON.  .Pensioner  and  Scribe  of  the  Earl  of  Pem- 
broke 

JOHNHEMINGE       )  *?" "     "^    °{    '*f    '<"'     *>«"»"» 

HENRY  CONDELL  \   Shax^r' a"d  wh°  S'9ned  Jonson's 
Dedication  and  Address. 

MARTIN  DROESHOUT.  .Engraver,  who  engraved  portrait 

for  First  Folio 

GERALD  JOHNSTON.  .Sculptor,  who  cut  bust,  now  in  Strat- 
ford Church 

LEONARD  DIGGES  . .  Town  wit  who  sells  his  signature  for 

eulogy 
SIR  FRANCIS  BACON,  .a  day  before  his  conviction  as  cor- 

ruptionist 


158 

THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  FOLIO. 
ACT  I,  SCENE  i. 

9  YEARS  AFTER  RUTLAND'S  DEATH 
Room  in  Barnard's  Castle,  Town  Residence  of  the  Earl 

of  Pembroke. 
Pembroke,  sitting  at  a  great  table  upon  which  is  piled 

a  mass  of  manuscripts  which  he  is  assorting. 
Pembroke.    Tis  now  nine  years  since  Rutland  passed 

away, 

And,  in  accordance  with  his  last  commands, 
The  plays  he  wrote  shall  see  the  light  of  day; 
The  manuscripts  put  in  the  printer's  hands. 
The  last  he  wrote,  by  all  consent,  the  best, 
Shall,  in  the  Folio,  lead  all  the  rest. 
Because  it  is  his  own  biography 
Writ  by  himself  for  all  posterity. 
The  "Tempest"  where  Prospero  with  his  wand 
Had  most  his  Genius,  "Ariel"  in  command; 
Who,  sighing  for  his  Freedom^  flew  away, 
To  let  our  "Rutland-Shake-Speare"  turn  to  clay. 
To  order  all  this  precious  data  here, 
Will  occupy  the  best  part  of  a  year. 
And  the  completed  book  we  all  shall  see 
In  anno  Sixteen  Hundred,  twenty-three! 
But  there  is  work  before  me,  and  I  have 
Asked  lord  Montgomery,  who  shares  my  trust, 
To  see  Ben  Jonson  and  engage  his  pen, 
To  screen  the  truth  from  all  our  fellowmen. 
For  Rutland's  last  injunction  was  to  me 
"His  name  be  buried  where  his  body  be!" 
The  banner  of  his  works  may  be  unfurled 
If  Rutland's  name  be  hidden  from  the  world! 
Southampton's  help,  the  King  and  State  debars 
In  whose  defence  he  is  engaged  in  wars. 
But  he  insists  to  shaxe  in  the  expense 
In  publishing  the  Folio's  contents. 
Two  printers  upon  whom  I  now  can  count. 
Are  Isaac  Jaggard,  and  one  Edward  Blount, 
And  here  before  me  lie  the  precious  plays, 


159 

That  will  outshine  the  Sun's  most  brilliant  rays ! 
[Knocking]    Who  knocks  there? 

Enter  ATTENDANT. 

Has  lord  Southampton  sent — or  is  he  here? 
Attendant.    The  Earl  is  here,  my  lord,  may  I  admit 

him? 

Pembroke.  By  all  means,  ask  his  lordship  to  come  up. 
I  cannot  leave  the  work  1  have  in  hand. 

[Exit  Attendant. 

Of  all  my  friends,  'tis  him  I  want  to  see, 
Invaluable  may  be  his  help  to  me. 

Enter  SOUTHAMPTON. 

My  hearty  thanks,  my  lord,  for  finding  time 
To  call  on  me  before  you  start  for  Holland. 
Southampton.    You  know,  dear  Pembroke,  I'd  not  go 

to  sea 

Without  first  calling  here  to  bid  good-bye. 
I  see  you're  buried  in  your  work  to-day 
And  hope  my  visit  may  not  interfere. 

Pembroke.    Quite  on  the  contrary,  I'm  glad  you  came 
For  there  is  something  you  can  do  for  me — ; 
These  are  the  manuscripts  of  Rutland's  plays 
The  ordering  of  which  I  am  about. 
'Twill  take  a  year  or  more  before  I'll  be  prepared 
To  turn  these  papers  over  to  the  printers. 

Southampton.  And  what  is  it  that  you  wish  me  to  do? 
Pembroke.     You're  off  for  Holland  now — when  you 

arrive, 

Enquire  out  one  Gerald  Johnston  for  me. 
He  is  a  sculptor  whom  I've  known  for  years, 
He  frequently  has  been  in  London. 
You'll  no  doubt  find  him  somewhere  near  the  Hague. 
Southampton.    I  know  the  man  you  mean — and  where 

to  find  him, 

The  last  I  heard,  he  was  in  Amsterdam, 
What  would  you  with  him,  when  I  find  the  man? 

Pembroke.   Send  him  to  me,  to  Barnard's  Castle  here; 
I  have  some  work  I  want  that  man  to  do. 
And  let  him  have  what  money  he  requires 


i6o 
Which  I'll  return  by  him  when  he  is  through. 

Southampton.   Tis  well,  you'll  have  this  Johnston  with 

you 
Within,  say,  fifteen  days  from  now. 

Pembroke.     My  thanks,  my  lord,  you  know  without 

rehearsal. 

'Tis  only  fair  that  I  should  now  inform  you 
Just  why  I  want  that  Sculptor  Johnston  here. 
I  want  a  monument  set  up  at  Stratford 
To  lead  the  world  astray  on  Rutland's  works. 
His  plays  will  soon  be  ready  for  the  printer; 
Before  the  book  appears,  I  want  to  show 
That  by  some  monument  the  name  of  "Shake-Speare" 
Has  been  recorded  for  posterity 
As  Rutland's  name  must  not  be  known  in  this 
I  compromise  by  going  to  his  dummy — 
Where,  near  this  Shaxper's  grave  I  do  intend 
To  place  a  composite  of  man  and  master. 

Southampton.    A  composite?    what  may  you  mean  by 

that? 
Pembroke.     A  face  that's  neither  Rutland's  nor  his 

dummy's 

But  having  features  prominent  in  each. 
You  see,  this  Shaxper  was  but  little  known; 
Now  five  years  dead  his  features  are  forgotten. 
And  Rutland — No  one  mentions  that  name  more. 
Southampton.     Alas,  poor  Roger  is  now  nine  years 

dead! 

Pray  do  not  bind  his  Venus  and  Adonis, 
Nor  his  Lucrece,  within  the  Folio. 
These  two  are  mine,  especially  presented 
To  me,  when  Rutland  just  began  to  write. 
Pembroke.     You're  right,  Southampton,  I  will  leave 

these  out 

As  well  as  all  the  Sonnets  he  has  writ — 
These  and  the  minor  poems  from  his  pen 
Should  be  presented  in  a  separate  book. 

Southampton.   Mine  were  the  only  two  he  ever  signed, 
And  therefore  held  in  reverence  by  me. 


How  will  you  manage  with  the  dedication, 
And  how  get  odes  and  poems  of  respect, 
To  print  before  the  preface  of  the  Folio? 

Pembroke.   You'll  be  amused  to  hear  how  I  work  that. 
You  know  for  years  I've  pensioned  rare  Ben  Jonson 
Whose  pen  is  servile  to  my  every  wish. 
While  Jonson  knows  that  Shaxper  was  but  dummy 
He  but  suspects  that  Rutland  was  the  man 
Who  used  the  nom  de  plume  of  "William  Shake-Speare" 
I  have  a  padlock  hung  on  Jonson's  lips, 
And  own  the  key  that  frames  his  lines  or  speech 
On  everything  pertaining  to  Shake-Speare. 

Southampton.    To  keep  this  padlock  in  good  working 

order 

And  keep  his  fingers  nimble  for  the  pen 
Must  cost  you  somewhat  through  the  year,  I  wot. 

Pembroke.    Not  much;  but  twenty  pounds  a  year,  at 

Christmas, 
And  that  much  more  for  special  work  for  me. 

Southampton.    Farewell,  my  Pembroke,  I  must  now 

be  gone 

I'll  send  that  Holland  Sculptor  here  to  you, 
As  soon  as  ever  I  can  find  the  man. 

Pembroke.     Farewell,   Southampton,  may  good  luck 

attend  you 
And  let  me  hear  from  you  whene'er  you  can. 

[Exit  Southampton. 
This  monument  is  an  idea  of  mine 
To  throw  the  lynx-eyed  printers  off  the  track. 

Enter   BEN   JONSON. 
Holloa!  good  master  Jonson,  how's  with  thee? 

Jonson.    True  to  the  minute  of  my  lord's  appointment 
Do  I  present  myself — prepared  for  work. 
Pembroke.    'Tis  well,  good  Ben, — now  hearken  to  my 

words, 

And  then,  accommodate  your  actions  to  them. 
First:  I  know  you  have  your  own  suspicions 
As  to  the  dramatist  who  wrote  these  plays — 
My  wish  is,  that,  under  no  circumstance, 


162 

You  speak  the  name  you  have  in  mind ; 

To  me  or  anyone  you  know,  upon  this  subject 

Second:  I  want  you  to  prepare  a  poem 

So  larded  with  ambiguity 

That  all  who  read  it  may  accept, 

The  praise  you  give,  for  dummy  Shaxper. 

Between  the  lines,  however,  of  this  poem, 

I  wish  it  boldly  stated  that  the  man 

Who  wrote  the  plays  of  "William  Shake-Speare" 

Was  other  than  the  man  from  Warwickshire. 

Tqnson.     'Tis  to  your  interest,  I  keep  up  the  farce, 
'Tis  well — Obedience  to  your  orders  are 
My  privilege  and  delight,  my  lord  of  Pembroke, 
I  will  bestir  myself  and  take  my  leave — I'll  warrant ! 

Pembroke.  Remember,  Jonson,  not  one  word  to  me  or 

anyone 
Of  thy  suspicion — I  wish  that  subject  dead. 

Jonson.    Your  commands  in  all  things,  my  lord,  are 
law  to  me ! 

Pembroke.      'Tis  well,   Ben;   then  there  is  another 

thing— 

I  wish  you  to  draw  up  a  letter, 
A  letter  as  ambiguous  as  the  ode  I  want, 
Wherein  the  Actors  Heminge  and  Condell 
Make  dedication  of  the  Folio  to  me,  and  to  my  brother. 

Jonson.    I  follow  you,  my  lord. 

Pembroke.    And  yet  another  writ  I  want  of  thee, 
Composed  upon  the  model  of  that  letter. 
It  is  to  be  an  "Address  to  the  Public" 
And  also  signed  by  Heminge  and  Condell. 

Jonson.    'Twill  be  a  paraphrase,  my  lord,  of  that. 

Pembroke.    I  have  engaged  the  graver,  Martin  Droes- 

hout, 

To  make  a  picture  for  the  Folio, 
To  this,  I'd  wish  you  write  some  lines  as  well. 
This  picture,  mark  me,  Ben,  is  composite 
Of  features  of  this  Shaxper,  you  remember, 
And  of  the  man  whose  name  must  be  a  secret. 
I  have  prepared  this  portrait  with  great  pains 


And  when  thou  see'st  it,  Ben,  thou'llt  do  it  justice. 

[Hands  him  a  purse.] 

Jonson.    Tis  well,  my  lord,  I'll  call  again  to-morrow. 
And  bring  the  drafts  I  shall  prepare  meantime. 

[Exit  Jonson. 
Pembroke.     So  that  is  off  my  mind,  and  rare  Ben 

Jonson, 

Is  just  the  man  I  want  in  this  affair! 
He  knows  it's  Rutland  and  he  knows  I  know  it 
But  I  have  curbed  all  confidence  with  me. 
'Tis  time  young  Droeshout  called  about  the  picture, 
That  I've  prepared  to  front  the  Folio. 
I  hear  him  now,  so  let's  to  work  upon  it. 

Enter  MARTIN  DROESHOUT. 
'Tis  well  you  came,  young  man,  for  I  must  off. 
Droeshout.    I'm  prompt,  my  lord,  and  shall  not  keep 

you  long. 

Pray,  let  me  see  the  work  that  you  wish  done. 
Pembroke.   This  is  the  portrait  that  I  want  engraved 

[Showing  a  picture.} 

Droeshout.    But  that  is  not  a  portrait  of  a  man ! 
That  bulging  forehead  and  that  wooden  stare 
Hath  nothing  human  in  it,  by  my  trow! 
I  am  afeared,  my  lord,  that  I  shall  fail 
To  please  your  worship,  with  my  budding  art, 
And  lose  the  prestige  of  your  good  report. 
Pembroke.     Fear  not,  thou  sprouting  artist,  that  thy 

name 

Will  suffer  from  aught  work  thou  do'st  for  me. 
For,  contrawise  thou  wilt  secure  a  fame, 
That  will  resound  for  many  a  century. 
The  portrait  that  I  here  present  to  you 
Is  not  of  one  man — nay,  it  shows  thee  two. 
Make  but  a  'graving  to  resemble  it; 
The  book  it  decorates,  will  show  the  wit. 
Dost  see  that  line  beneath  the  right  hand  chin 
Why,  that's  the  mask  that  covers  what's  within; 
Thy  art  will  shine  in  what  thou  mak'st  of  this, 
Then  let  the  world  make  its  analysis. 


164 

Take  it,  young  man,  and  do  the  best  you  can, 
For  in  this  composite  you  hide  a  man 
Whom  all  the  literary  world  engages 
To  be  the  Phoenix  of  succeeding  ages ! 
Droeshout.    I  go,  my  lord,  and  take  this  hybrid  with 

me, 
And  bring  the  plate  to  you  within  a  month. 

[Exit  Droeshout. 
Pembroke.       So    much    accomplished — now    to    gay 

Whitehall 
Where  contrast  shows  the  humor  of  it  all ! 

Enter  MONTGOMERY. 

What  now,  my  brother,  is  it  time  to  go 
To  dance  attendance  at  the  Royal  Show? 

Montgomery.  'Tis  past  the  time  by  half  an  hour  now; 
Make  haste,  my  lord,  the  King  will  miss  us, 
We'll  leave  these  manuscripts  just  as  they  are, 
And  on  the  morrow  I'll  assist  you  with  them. 
Pembroke.  'Twill  take  something  to  get  them  straight- 
ened out, 

But  with  your  help  we'll  soon  accomplish  it. 
CURTAIN. 


SCENE  II.    Ben  Jonson's  Lodgings. 
(JonsQn  writing  at  table,  center.} 
Jonson.    They  all  need  Ben,  when  something's  to  be 

done, 

I'll  warrant  ye ! 

Of  all  God's  noblemen,  give  me  rare  Ben! 
Let  them  have  titles,  gold,  estates,  domains ; 
They  haven't  got  what  Ben  has — Brains! 
No  wonder,  when  they're  up  a  tree, 
They  hem  and  ha'  and  come  to  me — 
"Good  master  Ben;"  "rare  Ben;"  "one  word," 
And  then  their  whims,  are  so  absurd! 
Here's  Pembroke,  he's  my  golden  goose; 
For  him  I'll  do,  if  Hell  breaks  loose ! 
And  I  just  humor  this  good  lord, 


To  find  a  welcome  at  his  board — 

Just  now  lord  Pembroke  needs  a  pen, 

There's  none  in  England  save — rare  Ben ! 

He  knows  it — and  his  "angels"  tell, 

By  jingling — that  Ben  does  it  well! 

They  know  it  at  the  Mermaid  too, 

That  Ben's  a  master  through  and  through! 

There's  Shaxper,  poof  ! — now  dead  five  years ; 

Must  now  be  pulled  up  by  the  ears 

To  have  his  lunkhead  braced  to  pose 

For  Rutland's  forehead,  chin  and  nose, 

To  make  a  life-like  counterfeit 

Of  "Shake-Speare's"  Mundane  master  wit! 

Now  Pembroke  wants  ten  lines  on  that, 

And  fit  both  heads  beneath  one  hat. 

The  world  to  see  the  Stratford  man, 

While  those  who  know,  can  understand 

That  Roger  Rutland  wrote  while  here 

Over  the  nom  de  plume: — "Shake-Speare !" 

This  portrait  with  the  wooden  stare 

Will  fright  the  timid  anywhere; 

Now  let  us  see  what  Ben  can  do 

To  praise  this  composite  for  you — . 

Here's  what  I've  writ — Now  mark  my  wit: 

[Reads]  "The  figure  that  thou  here  seest  put, 

"Was  for  the  gentle  Shakespeare  cut;" 

I  call  the  thing  a  "figure"  there, 

Because  of  its  inhuman  stare! 

The  "gentle"  in  the  line  below 

Gives  that  old  Sfcatford  man  a  show. 

The  name  "Shakespeare,"  the  nom-de-plume, 

The  mystic  Rutland  did  assume. 

While  at  the  whole  I  have  my  fling — 

To  both,  alike,  my  praises  ring! 

[Reads]     "Wherein  the  graver  had  a  strife 

"With  Nature,  to  outdo  the  life" 

In  this  I  chide  the  poor  engraver, 

For  fighting  Nature  to  enslave  her. 

[Reads]  "O,  could  he  but  have  drawn  his  wit, 


i66 

"As  well  in  brass  as  he  had  hit — his  face." 
Had  Droeshout  this  ability 
'Twould  show  Shaxper's  senility. 
«    *    *    *     Tfo  print  Would  then  surpass, 
"All  that  was  ever  writ  in  brass." 
Poor  Shaxper's  literary  coin, 
Was  always  "brass"  and  fit  to  join 
His  frequent  tavern  repartee, 
He  oft  indulged  in  when  with  me. 
[Reads]  "But  since  he  cannot,  Reader  look, 
"Not  on  his  picture,  but  his  book." 
In  this  I  blame  the  graver's  art, 
In  that  his  work  does  not  impart 
A  knowledge  of  the  look  and  face 
Of  this  wit-master  of  our  race. 
I  wonder  will  lord  Pembroke  note 
The  ridicule  of  what  I  wrote. 
The  mind  that  lets  this  jewel  pass 
Must  be  composed  of  melted  brass ! 
Ha!  I  almost  forgot — I  have  an  appointment  to  meet 
Shaxper's  old  fellow-actors,  Heminge  and  Condell, 
here  about  this  time,  and  get  them  to  sign  their 
names  to  the  letter  of  dedication  and  the  "Address 
to  the  Public"  that  are  to  preface  the  great  Folio. 
Here  they  come,  I  hear  their  footsteps  on  the  stair. 

Enter  HEMINGE  and  CONDELL. 
Halloa,  Heminge,  and  friend  Condell,  what  cheer? 
Ye're  prompt,  my  friends,  and  here  is  entertainment. 

Heminge.     We  came,  good  Ben,  to  know  in  what 

affair 
Our  slight  assistance  may  be  serviceable? 

Condell.    And  to  assure  you  that  we'll  be  delighted 
To  help  you,  if  we  can — What  is  it,  Ben? 

Jonson.  You  both  remember  Shaxper,  don't  you,  boys  ? 

Heminge.     Shaxper?  let's  see,  oh,  him   from  War- 
wickshire ! 

Condell.   Of  course,  we  do — he's  dead  about  ten  years. 

Jonson.    O,  no !  but  five,  Condell ;  but  five  short  years ; 
And  yet  almost  forgotten!  What  a  world! 


i67 

Heminge.    But,  Ben,  what  was  there  about  this  Shax- 
per then, 
That  he  should  still  be  troubling  our  minds? 

CondelL   He  was  no  actor,  when  it  comes  to  acting, 
And  as  to  money — he  held  on  to  that ; 
But  what  about  this  man,  that  you  are  after? 

Jonson.    Don't  you  remember,  when  he  got  his  title, 
His  coat  of  Arms  as  "gentleman,"  by  fraud? 
And  how  we  called  him  "gentle"  in  derision, 
Which  doubtless  those  who  knew  not  of  the  man 
Accepted  as  an  emblem  of  his  manner? 

Heminge.   Indeed,  we  do,  now  that  you  speak  of  it 

CondelL    How  "gentle"  Shaxper  hounded  Clayton  out 

of  town 

For  failing  payment  of  a  loan  for  fifteen  shillings ! 
O,  yes,  indeed — that  Shaxper — well,  Ben,  what  of  him? 

Jonson.    Do  you  remember,  how  we  all  had  him  sus- 
pected 

Of  standing  dummy  for  some  nobleman 
Who  wrote  those  high  class  plays  we  all  admired? 

Heminge.     Of    course,     but,    pshaw!    this    Shaxper 
couldn't  write 

CondelL     Why,  even  his  own  name,  we'd  have  to 

trace  it — 
When  he'd  sign  vouchers  for  his  weekly  wages ! 

Jonson.    Well,  boys,  forgive  him, — Mammon  was  his 

God! 

I  saw  him  on  the  day  before  he  died — 
I  was  at  Stratford  then  with  Michael  Dayton 
And  we  drank  heavily,  I'll  warrant  ye ! 
The  next  day  Shak.  was  dead — we  came  away—- 
The thing  I've  now  in  hand  is  simply  this : 
A  friend  of  the  mysterious  author  "Shake-Speare" 
(Which  was  the  nom  de  plume  to  which  he  wrote.) 
Has  gathered  all  his  plays  and  comedies 
With  view  to  publishing  the  same  next  year — 
The  Earl  of  Pembroke  is  the  friend  I  mean — 
And  he  wants  you  to  sign  the  dedicatioa 
And  an  address  unto  the  general  reader, 


i68 

Both  these  I  have  prepared  and  now  are  ready 
And  I  would  thank  you  both  to  sign  the  same. 
Heminge.    If  that  is  all,  why,  let  me  have  thy  quill. 
Condell    The  Earl  of  Pembroke,  Ben,  shall  have  his 

will ! 

Don't  bother  reading  o'er  the  thing  to  us — 
Heminge.     Let's  have  them,  we  will  sign  without  a 
fuss. 

(they  sign   the   two   papers) 

Jonson.    You  two  are  thoroughbreds,  I'll  warrant  ye ! 
I  thought  you'd  hem  and  ha' — or  take  your  time 
And  see  what's  in  it  first  before  you  sign. 
Condell.     No,   Ben,  just  let  the  Earl  of   Pembroke 

know, 
That  Heminge  and  myself  are  not  so  slow. 

Heminge.    And  tell  him  all  we  ask  at  his  high  hands 
Is  recognition — and  his  next  commands! 
I'll  bet,  Ben,  that  I  know  that  mystic  author, 
The  nobleman  whom  Shaxper  dummied  for. 

Condell.    And  I  don't  have  to  guess  so  very  hard — 
For  oft  I've  seen  the  two  consult  together 
Between  the  acts  or  when  the  play  was  done. 
Heminge.       Why,    yes,    I    now    remember,    Herbert 

Grey, 

A  distant  kinsman  of  Sir  Robert  Sidney, 
Has  tried  to  pump  me  as  to  Shaxper's  standing 
With  us,  that  is  our  Company  at  the  Globe. 

Condell.      And   why   my   lord   of    Rutland    came   so 

often, 

With  Lord  Southampton  just  to  see  the  play — 
And  what  was   Shaxper  bothering  Rutland  for — 
Yes,  yes,  the  thing  is  clear  as  day  to  me! 

Heminge.    By  Jove!  I  never  thought  so  at  the  time; 
But  now  I'm  sure  that  Rutland  was  the  author! 

Jonson.    Ye  may  be  right,  boys,  but  just  keep  it  mum, 
And  you'll  oblige  Montgomery  and  Pembroke 
And  Lord  Southampton  too,  will  not  forget  ye! 
Ye  would  not  gain,  by  blabbing  forth  a  secret 
Held  close  by  noble  gentlemen  like  these. 


i69 

Keep  mum,  I  say,  and  do  as  I  have  done, 
I  knew  it  all  along — and  I've  kept  mum. 
Heminge.    My  hand  upon  it,  Ben,  no  sign  from  me! 
Condell.     And  mine,  good  Ben,  I'll  not  by  word  or 

sign 

Make  known  a  secret  of  my  lord  of  Pembroke! 
Jonson.      Ye're  thoroughbreds,   I'll   warrant  ye,  my 
friends ! 

[Exit  Heminge  and  Condell. 
Such   are  God's  noblemen — no   thought  of  self! 
The    difference    between   these   men   and    Shaxper, 
That  Stratford  usurer  would  have  sucked  the  blood 
From  Pembroke,  with  a  secret  such  as  this! 
Now  Leonard  Digges  is  due  about  this  hour; 
I  want  his  name  signed  to  our  eulogy, 
I'll  get  his  name  by  jingling  my  "angels" 
That  Pembroke  gave  me  to  secure  his  pen. 
Digges  is  a  town  wit,  hanging  out  at  Paul's; 
I  meet  him  in  Paul's  walk  most  every  day. 
Why  Pembroke  wants  an  eulogy  from  him 
To  front  the  Folio,  I  cannot  say. 
Ah,  here  he  comes,  now  note  a  different  man. 

Enter  LEONARD  DIGGES. 

Hello,  well-met,  friend  Digges,  how  goes  the  world? 
Digges.     So,  so,  I  say,  good  master  Jonson,  are  you 

flush? 

I  want  an  angel  for  a  day  or  so. 
I  shame  to  ask  you,  but  you  know  the  rush, 
Parnassus   as   a  boarding-house   is   slow. 
Jonson.     I'll  help  you  Digges,  if  you  will  sign  your 

name — 
Digges.      A  thousand  times,  if  that  will  make  you 

game! 

I  need  an  angel  badly — just  to-day, 
Mine  hostess  at  the  Falcon  wants  her  pay. 
Jonson.    Tis  well,  just  sign  your  name  to  these  few 

lines, 

And  if  you  ever  see  them  in  a  book 
Don't  brag  about  them,  fot  they  are  by  me 


Or  you'll  oblige  me  then  to  trouble  thee! 
Here  is  thy  angel — Sign  thy  name  right  here. 
[Digges  signs.] 

Digges.     Thanks,  master  Jonson,  nothing  more  to- 
day? 

Jonson.    Not  that  I  know  of— 

Digges.    Well,  then  I'll  away! 

[Exit  Digges. 

Jonson.    Here  is  a  man  for  you — but  he's  still  young, 
But  London  is  just  full  of  wits  like  this; 
He  is  an  Oxford  man,  and  glib  of  tongue, 
An  angel  buys  him  for  applause  or  hiss! 
There's  Chapman,  Daniel,  Donne  and  men  like  these; 
Sir  Francis  Bacon,  Sandy's,  Michael  Drayton — 
The  latter  was  with  me  "in  at  the  death" 
Of  that  poltroon  in  Stratford  on  the  Avon. 
These  men  have  shed  no  tear  when  Shaxper  died: 
I  cannot  ask  their  praise — to  be  denied! 
My  case  is  different,  for  my  wit  is  lent 
To  screen  a  name  until  the  veil  is  rent! 
If  Rutland's  name  must  not  be  known  as  yet 
I'll  not  proclaim  it  from  a  minoret 
CURTAIN. 


SCENE  III.     ROOM  IN  BARNARD'S  CASTLK 

PEMBROKE  reading  a  letter. 
Pembroke.     This  letter  from  my  lord  Southampton 

says 

That  he  has  found  the  sculptor  I  was  after 
And  packed  him  off — so  that  he  will  arrive 
At  Barnards  by  the  time  this  letter  comes  to  hand. 

Enter  MONTGOMERY. 
Well,  brother,  have  you  seen  the  printer? 

Montgomery.     I  have,  and  pre-engaged  his  presses 
Exclusively  for  our  great  Folio. 
Pembroke.     That's  well,  here  comes  my  man  from 

Holland; 
The  sculptor,  Gerald  Johnston,  whom  I've  sent  for 


The  "Make-shift  Figure"  of 
"SHAKE-SPEARE," 
by  Martin  Droeshout. 


To  carve  a  marble  composite  for  me. 
Montgomery.    Then  I'll  arrange  the  proper  sequences 

of  plays— 
Whilst  you  are  busy  with  this  sculptor  Johnston. 

Enter  GERALD  JOHNSTON. 
Pembroke.     Thou'rt  prompt,  my  man,  did'st  have  a 

pleasant  journey? 
Johnston.     I  have,  my  lord,  and  came  to  town  this 

morning, 

As  lord  Southampton  urged  me  to  be  prompt 
I  came  directly  here  from  aboard  o'ship. 
Pembroke.    'Tis  well,  good  Johnston,  now  be  seated, 

pray, 

And  I  will  tell  thee  just  what  I  want  done. 
I  need  your  skill  to  carve  a  monument — 
The  figure  of  a  well  proportioned  man 
In  pert  array,  between  a  gentleman  and  poet, 
Somewhat  like  this  sketch — I  show  thee  here — 

[Handing  sketch  to  Johnston.] 
It  matters  not  if  thou  dost  miss  the  likeness; 
As  very  few  shall  recognize  from  it, 
The  man  it  represents  where  'twill  be  placed. 
Johnston.    If  that's  the  case,  my  lord,  I  would  sug- 
gest 

That  I  look  round  amongst  your  local  cutters, 
And  pick  out  something  partially  prepared — 
'Twill  save  us  time  and  also  cut  expense. 
Pembroke.     Expense,  I  care  not,  Johnston,  but  the 

time, 

That  thy  suggestion  promises  to  save 
Prompts  me  to  have  thee  look  about  thee, 
With  sketch  in  hand — and  see  what  thou  can'st  find — 
And,  when  thou  dost  succeed,  I  further  want 
A  cavity  cut  deep  enough  to  hold  a  scroll  like  this: 
[Showing  scroll  about  ten  inches  long  by  three  inches 

diameter.] 

And  when  the  manikin  thou  cut'st  is  finished, 
With  this  receptical  cut  smoothly  in ; 
Mix  marble  dust  with  durable  cement 


172 

With  which  to  close  the  cavity  when  'tis  filled. 
Then  get  a  marble  slab  and  'grave  upon  it 
The  words  thou'lt  find  upon  this  parchment  here. 
Now  get  thee  lodgings  suitable  for  thee, 
So  that  thy  work  is  near  to  where  thou  livest. 
Inform  me  when  thou  hast  arranged  for  this, 
And  take  this  purse  to  cover  thine  expense. 

Johnston.    I  fully  comprehend,  my  lord,  your  orders, 
And  I'll  report  to  you  within  a  week. 

[Exit  Johnston. 

Montgomery.    What  is  the  purport  of  that  cavity 
That  Johnston  is  to  cut  within  the  bust? 

Pembroke.     There  will  I  place  the  proof  and  evi- 
dence 

Of  Shaxper's  standing  dummy  for  our  Rutland. 
There  it  will  rest  where  neither  time,  decay, 
Nor  fire,  nor  wars,  nor  earthquakes  can  destroy  it! 

Montgomery.    An  excellent  idea,  my  worthy  brother, 
For  centuries  that  scroll  will  be  secure 
As  even  moisture  will  not  enter  there; 
And  mind  of  man  will  hardly  think  on  this ! 
What  hast  thou  ordered  'graved  upon  the  tablet? 

Pembroke.    Two  lines  of  latin  that  fit  Rutland  only! 
And  underneath,  six  lines  in  good  plain  English 
To  those  who  know  our  secret  of  our  Roger. 
That  he  alone  is  meant  in  these  our  lines. 
But,  'tis  so  worded  that  the  public  may 
Imagine  it  refers  to  Rutland's  dummy! 

Montgomery.     Read  me  these  lines  in  English,  my 
brother. 

Pembroke   [reads}  "Stay,  passenger,  why  goest  thou 

by  so  fast?" 

You  see,  my  brother,  that  I  toll  a  warning 
To  all  who  read,  to  stop  and  think  a  bit. 
[Reads]  "Read,  if  thou  cans't  whom  envious  death  hath 

placed 

"Within  this  monument,  SHAKESPEARE      *    *    *    *    ' 
In  these,  I  challenge  the  observant  reader 
To  get  my  meaning,  if  he  can  but  read, 


173 

And,  as  the  dummy  lies  some  feet  away, 
Beneath  the  paltry  curse  inscribed  slab, 
I  clip  our  Rutland's  pen-name  just  a  bit 
3y  cutting  out  the  "E"  completing  "Shake" 
To  draw  the  reader's  mind  towards  the  dummy 
Who  does  not  lie  within  our  monument. 
[Reads]  "(Shake-Speare)"    *    *    *  with  whom 
"Quick  nature  died,  whose  name  doth  deck  this  tomb, 
"Far  more  than  cost,  since  all  that  he  has  writ 
"Leaves  living  art  but  page  to  serve  his  wit." 
You  see,  good  brother,  this  refers  to  Rutland. 
Montgomery.     Rutland  alone — to  us  who  know  the 

man! 

But  ar't  not  feared,  contemporary  poets 
Will  soon  discover  our  thin  veiled  intent? 

Pembroke.       I've    guarded    even    against    this,    my 

brother! 

For  I  have  added  Shaxper's  age  at  death. 
And  date  of  his  demise  in  April 
The  twenty-third,  in  sixteen,  sixteen. 
This  last  line,  all  alone,  refers  to  Shaxper, 
The  paltry  usurer,  and  Rutland's  dummy! 
[Reads]  "obit.  ano.  doi.  1616  aetatis  53,  die  23  ap." 
Montgomery.  This  date  alone's  a  sop  to  Stratford- 

ites! 

Pembroke.     And  Stratford's  blind  fanatic  satellites  I 
Besides,  my  brother,  we  need  never  fear 
That  living  poets  ever  will  come  near 
To  Stratford  to  beflower  Shaxper's  grave. 
For  they  all  knew  him  as  a  paltry  knave ! 
Montgomery.    And  how  have  you  arranged  for  plac- 
ing it, 

The  bust  and  tablet,  in  the  Stratford  Church? 
Pembroke.      The   good   Bishop   of   Worcester's   my 

friend, 

And  his  authority  will  serve  my  end — 
Within  a  month  the  thing  will  be  in  place, 
To  fool  fanatics  of  the  coming  race 
While  we  may  sing  aloud  where  all  may  hear 


Our  praise  of  Rutland  and  the  world's  "Shake-Speare !" 

Enter  ATTENDANT 

How    now?    Hath    master   Bacon   yet   arrived? 
Attendant.  Sir  Francis  is  below,  my  lord. 
Pembroke.  Then  show  him  up,  we'll  see  Sir  Francis 
here. 

[Exit  Attendant. 

I  knew  this  Bacon  for  a  very  knave 
Before  his  treachery  towards  Lord  Essex. 
Montgomery.    As  water  seeks  its  level — he  sought  his; 
But,  hush,  he  comes,  let  us  be  lenient. 

Enter  SIR  FRANCIS  BACON. 
Fair  day,  my  lord  St.  Albans — sorry  news — 
Pembroke.    An  is  all  lost — an  is  there  no  defence? 
Bacon.     I  am  a  broken  reed,  my  noble  lords,  have 

mercy ! 

I  come  to  offer  that  which  still  is  in  me, 
To  help  directing  Rutland's  Folio. 
If  so,  you  will  accept  of  my  assistance, 
Now  that  my  work  for  King  and  State  is  done. 
Pembroke.      Thanks,    Bacon,   but    Montgomery   and 

myself 

Have  managed  our  poor  Roger's  noble  works, 
And  have  engaged  the  publishers  withal — 
So  now  there's  nothing  further  to  be  done. 

Montgomery.    There  was  a  time  when  your  abilities 
Would  have  been  welcome  to  our  enterprise. 

Pembroke.      But   then  your  high  position  held  you 
back. 

Bacon.     Alas,  my  lords,  thus  all  despise  me  now! 
E'en  for  the  grave  I  feel  myself  unfit; 
With  my  misfortunes  burdening  my  soul! 

Montgomery.      You   have   our   sympathy,   and   even 

Essex, 

Who,  by  your  treachery  suffered  on  the  block 
Looks  on  you  now  with  sympathetic  eye! 

Bacon.    Enough  of  this,  my  lord,  my  heart  is  broken; 
My  evil  life  is  patent  to  me  now — 


175 

With  Rutland's  death  I  lost  my  inspiration 
For  all  that's  worthy  in  this  world  of  ours. 
You  know,  my  lords,  how  Rutland,  used  my  help, 
In  delving  in  the  archives  of  the  state 
For  data  in  his  Histories  and  Kings. 
From  Richard  Second  down  to  Henry  Eighth, 
Poor  Rutland  had  his  chain  of  kings  complete, 
Excepting  Richmond,  Seventh  Henry,  whose  life 
I  have  myself  included  in  my  works. 
This  life  of  Henry  Seventh  I  completed, 
From  records  dug  for  Rutland  in  his  work; 
But  when  he  died  so  sudden,  unexpected, 
I  fell  to  work  upon  this  reign  myself. 

Pembroke.    From  what  we  know  of  this,  art  willing, 

Bacon, 

To  freely  state  that  your  philosophies 
Were  largely  fed  by  Rutland's  mastermind. 
That  Rutland's  quaint  expressions  and  pert  sayings 
Were  nursed  into  philosophy  by  you  ? 

Montgomery.       That,    but    for    Rutland,    your    ideas 

were  vain; 

That  you  exploited  Rutland's  genius, 
And  latinized  your  works  to  hide  the  diction? 

Bacon.    What  booteth  all  denial,  when  the  world 
Is  witness  to  my  failings  during  life? 
When  Rutland  died,  I  lost  my  better  self 
And  all  my  mind  strove  for  material  things. 
Glad  am  I  that  poor  Essex  from  on  high 
Can  see  my  sufferings  here  before  I  die! 
Farewell,  my  lords,  I'll  to  the   Council  now, 
Whence  I'm  prepared  to  go  into  the  Tower, 
Where  Rutland  spent  two  miserable  years 
And  where  I'm  sheltered  from  the  public  jeers! 

[Exit  Bacon. 

Pembroke.     An  end  befitting  such  a  character! 

Montgomery.      His  uncle  the  great  Burleigh,  knew 

him  well — 

To  be  the  arrant  humbug  that  he  is! 
For  there  is  naught  in  his  philosophy 


Worth  hearkening  to,  but  that  the  soul  of  Rutland 
Is  felt  to  make  this  Bacon's  words  sublime ! 

Pembroke.       Eliminate    the    thoughts    of    Rutland- 

Shake-Speare, 

From  all  that  Francis  Bacon  ever  wrote 
The  residue  would  be  inane  and  flat! 
Montgomery.    I  hear  the  voice  of  Jonson  down  below, 
There's  only  one  Ben  Jonson,  rare  old  Ben ! 
Pembroke.     Here  he  comes  now — 
Enter  JONSON. 

Well,  good  my  master,  what  have  we  here  now? 
Montgomery.    Fair  day,  good  master,  what's  the  good 

report  ? 
Jonson.      My  lords,   I   have  accomplished  that — that 

will 

Not  fail  to  please  your  worships,  I'll  warrant ! 
I've  writ  the  dedication  and  address,  and  both  are  signed 
By  the  two  actors,  Heminge  and  Condell; 
I  have  an  ode  or  eulogy  from  Digges; 
(But  why  you  want  his  name,  I  fail  to  see — ;) 
I've   writ  ten   lines   on   that  monstrosity, 
That  Droeshout  is  engraving  for  the  book; 
But,  best  of  all,  I  worked  up  eighty  lines 
To  preface  the  great  Folio  for  you 
That  neither  God  or  devil  can  make  out, 
But  reads  withal  so  smooth  and' lovingly 
That  only  those  who  know,  can  understand. 
Pembroke.    Well  done,  good  Ben;  an  here's  a  purse 
for  thee. 

(giving  Jonson  a  purse) 
Montgomery.    But    don't   let   your   Canary     rob   thy 

bookshelf ! 
Pembroke.     Nor  let  thy  thirst  make  sack     upon  thy 

wardrobe ! 

Jonson.    Fear  not,  my  lords,  my  service  to  your  wor- 
ships 

Shan't  suffer  through  those  weaknesses  of  mine ! 
Pray,  let  me  analize  my  eighty  lines; 
You  hold  the  script — I  have  the  thing  by  heart. 


THE  STRATFORD  BUST 
of  Falstaflf. 


177 

Pembroke.     Sail  in,  Ben,  let  us  hear  the  oracle. 

Jonson.    I  start  my  potent  ambiguity 
By  hailing  "Shake-Speare" — mystic  nom-de-plume ; 
And  cover  that  great  genius  with  praise 
For  fully  seventy  of  my  eighty  lines. 
Then,  not  to  be  too  bold  in  voiding  Shaxper, 
The  Swan  who  wails  his  death  song  in  my  mind, 
I  do  devote  apparently  four  lines 
But  when  we  know  the  Avon  runs  through  Leicester, 
Where  oft  our  Shake-Speare  sought  his  lovely  muse 
It  leaves  the  Stratford  Swan  a  puddling 
Upon  the  cesspool  in  the  New  Place  garden 
Throughout  my  lines  I  hail  our  mystic  "Shake-Speare" 
And  not  the  usurer  of  Stratford  town ! 
CURTAIN. 

SCENE  IV.  Room  in  Drury  House  (2  years  later,  1623.) 
THE  EARL  OF  SOUTHAMPTON'S  Town  House. 

(Enter  Southampton  and  Pembroke,  arm  in  arm.) 

Pembroke.     Right  glad  I  am  to  see  you  back,  my 

dear  Southampton, 

And  you'll  be  pleased,  sir,  with  our  work  meantime. 
Montgomery  and  I,  and  rare  Ben  Jonson 
Have  now  our  Rutland-Shake-Speare  Folio  out. 
You'll  find  a  copy  of  it  in  your  library. 

Southampton.     I  am  delighted,   Pembroke,  I  assure 

you, 

Especially  now  that  our  dear  Rutland's  work 
Is  saved  from  the  oblivion  that  threatened  it. 
How  have  you  managed  with  the  monument? 

Pembroke.      The   sculptor  Johnston   came   in   ample 

time, 

And  found  a  bust  amongst  the  monuments 
Of  one  of  many  of  our  local  hewers  of  stone. 
This,  Johnston  chiseled  under  my  direction 
To  make't  adaptable  to  our  purpose. 
To  tell  the  truth  it  doth  resemble  most 
The  form  and  features  of  Jack  Falstaff, 
And  this  embodies  Shaxper  and  the  author. 


178 

As  we  decided,  for  post  rity? 

Southampton.     And     have     you     buried     Rutland's 
secret  with  it? 

Pembroke.     Indeed   we  have!     A  cavity  within  the 

bust 

Contains  the  record  of  the  true  "Shake-Speare" 
Where  moisture,  wars  or  even  earthquakes  will 
Work  vainly  with  old  Time  for  its  decay ! 
And  the  inscription  on  the  tablet  is 
In  praise  of  Rutland — Shake-Speare  all  alone! 

Southampton.     And  how  have  you   arranged  to  set 
it  up? 

Pembroke.     From  Worcester's  Bishop  I  obtained  my 

leave; 

And  had  the  bust  and  tablet  hauled  to  Stratford. 
'Twas  on  a  Monday  that  it  reached  that  town, 
And  I  was  there  when  everything  arrived. 
We  placed  the  crates  and  boxes  in  the  Church, 
And  had  the  doors  fast  closed  to  all  the  people. 
That  night,  with  masons  that  I  had  brought  up, 
From  London,  to  avoid  all  gossip, 
We  fixed  the  slab  in  place  and  raised  the  bust 
Full  two  feet  distant  from  that  Shaxper's  grave. 

Southampton.     Well  done  my  lord,  and  you  deserve 

full  credit. 

For  executing  Rutland's  last  request. 
Thank  God,  'tis  done  and  that  'twas  done  by  you, 
That  was  th'  executor  of  Roger's  works. 

Pembroke.    I  hardly  know  how  to  repay  Ben  Jonson, 
His  genius  for  ambiguity 
Hath  been  the  very  soul  of  our  success ! 
I've  pensioned  him  for  life  and  promised  him 
That  any  book  that  ever  he  should  cherish 
He  should  straightway  possess,  whate'er  the  price 

Enter  MONTGOMERY. 
Hello,  good  brother,  here's  our  Lowland  hero ! 

Southampton.     Welcome,    Montgomery,    good    Pem- 
broke tells  me 
You've  done  a  Titian's  task  on  Rutland's  Book. 


179 

Mongomery.     Our  work  was  difficult  and  incomplete 
We  were  obliged  to  use  some  prompt-book  copies 
And  had  not  time  for  properly  revising. 
We  did  not  dare  employ  outsiders  on  it 
And  thus  it  is  some  plays  are  not  divided 
Into  the  Acts  and  Scenes  as  would  be  proper. 

Pembroke.     For    both    Montgomery's    and    my    own 

time 

Was  taken  up  at  Court  to  such  extent 
That  many  things  that  should  forsooth  be  done 
Were  necessarily  allowed  to  go  unfinished. 

Southampton.    Well,  future  editors  will  see  to  that 
I  prophecy  that  all  of  Rutland's  plays 
Will  live  until  the  very  end  of  time! 

Montgomery.     I   saw   Ben  Jonson   down  below  just 

now 

To  pay  respects  to  you,  my  Lord    Southampton 
Let's  have  him  up — he  is  a  genius 
Of  that  peculiar  sort  that  is  unique. 

Southampton.    You're      right      Montgomery,      cries 

through  the  door) 

What  ho,  there,  Ben,  good  Master  Jonson, 
Step  up  this  way,  I  want  to  see  thee  Ben ! 

Enter  BEN  JONSON. 

Thou  art  a  Phoenix,  Ben,  in  thine  own  way 
Egad,  good   Master,  thou'st  excelled  thyself! 
The  lines  thou'st  written  to  that  Droeshout  portrait — 
They  are  a  masterpiece  beyond  compare 
Lord  Pembroke  sent  them  on  to  me  to  Holland 
As  well  as  other  lines  that  thou  hasTwrit. 

Jonson.     I  warrant  ye,  my  lord  Southampton 
When  there  is  aught  to  do  for  you 
And  for  lords  Pemboke  and  Montgomery 
There's  but  one  man  to  do  it  then 
And  that  man's  name  is  Ben,  rare  Ben! 
I  warrant  ye ! 

Pembroke.     This  is  not  self  praise 

Mongomery.  It  is  simply  fact! 


i8o 

Southampton.    Ben,  thou'rt  a  wonder,  and  I  know  it 

well 

Now  pull  thy  wits  together,  for  what's  coming 
Both  Pembroke  and  Mongoinery  and  myself 
Would  read  the  very  secret  of  thy  heart, 
And  know  without  poetic  flourishes 
In  just  how  far  this  Shaxper  blinded  thee. 
When  didst  thou  first  discover  he  was  acting 
As  Dummy  for  a  poet-nobleman? 
Jonson.     Then  will   my  lord  of   Pembroke  here  ab- 
solve me 

From   further  keeping  secret  what  I  know 
That  is,  alone  between  the  four  of  us  here  present? 
Pembroke.    Agreed,  Ben,  but  towards  all  else  keep 

mum! 
Jonson.     Well  then,  here  goes:  I  knew  it  from  the 

first, 

That  Stratford  Shaxper  could  not  write  at  all 
Why,  not  his  name  could  that  man  even  write! 
In  ninety-  eight,  when  I  was  four  and  twenty, 
I  first  met  Shaxper,  then  a  roustabout, 
Who   sometimes  took  a  minor  part  with   Burbage. 
He  never  could  act  any  heavy  part 
Although  his  weight  was  ample  for  the  purpose 
About  this  time  his  purse  was  always  flush 
Whereas  mine  own  relied  on  Henslow's  bounty. 
His  drinking  habits  matched  mine  own,  and  thus 
We'd  often  meet  in  Taverns  in  the  Clink. 
Montgomery.    Not  in  the  "Mermaid",  Ben,  in  Carter 

Lane? 
Jonson.    Just    once,    my   lord,    the    gentlemen    there 

meeting 

Were  not  within  the  reach  of  Shaxper's  status, 
As  common  actor  he'd  stand  cap  in  hand. 
When  such  as  Raleigh  came  into  the  Mermaid. 
Besides,  Sir  Walter  wouldn't  talk  with  such 
Thus  we  felt  more  at  home  at  minor  taverns, 
And  oft  we'd  frolic  far  into  the  morning. 
In  this  way  we  became  quite  intimate 


iSi 

And  when  good  Francis  Meres  brought  out  his  book — 
Southampton.    "Wits  Treasury"  wherein  he  praised 

good  pens 

'Mong  others,  "Shake-Speare's"  plays  and  poems 
Jonson.    Of  course,  I   saw  that  book,  and  quizzing 

Shaxper, 

Who  had  no  inkling  of  my  own  suspicion, 
I  soon  discovered  whence  the  wind  did  blow 
And   whence   the   well-lined   purse   of    Shaxper   came. 
I  got  more  evidence  in  ninety-nine — the  latter  part. 
When  I  saw  you,  my  lord  Southampton  and  lord  Rut- 
land 

Attend  the  play  most  every  evening. 
Southampton.    Quite  right,  good  Ben,  after  the  Ire- 
land fiasco, 
Lord  Rutland  and  myself  went  daily  to  the  play. 

Jonson.     One  day,  it  was  the  middle  of  November, 
I  saw  Will  Shaxper  talk  to  my  lord  Rutland 
Complaining  as  to  boys  for  female  parts — 
Sir  Herbert  Grey  was  there  and  listening  intently 
Well  I  remember  that  same  night,  my  lords, 
For  then   it  was   that   Ben,   rare   Ben,  knew  "Shake- 

Speare" ! 

The  nobleman  who  wrote  behind  that  name. 
But  still  I  wanted  further  proof  of  it. 
In  quizzing  Shaxper,  he  would  not  admit, 
Nor  would  he  deny  the  authorship. 
He  did  not  have  to  make  denial  to  me, 
For,  knowing  well  the  manner  of  the  man; 
His  small  capacity  as  actor; 
The  small  confines  of  all  his  conversation; 
His  being  always  flush  with  money, 
And  not  a  source  apparent  whence  it  came, 
(For  third   rate  actors,  get  but  little  pay) 
I  soon  was  satisfied  there  was  a  secret. 
Montgomery.  •     And    how    came    Lady    Rutland    to 

invite  you 

To  her  salon  with  literary  folk — 
Jonson.    I  sent  her  lines  conveying  admiration 


182 

For  her  bright  genius  in  poesy. 

I  did  this  purposely  to  gain  access 

To  Drury  House — aye  to  this  very  room — 

In  which  I  oft  had  pleasant  conversations 

With  Lady  Rutland  upon  literature. 

Pembroke.     Lord  Rutland  wasn't  pleased  at  this,  a 

bit. 

He,  too,  felt  you  were  spying  round  the  house 
To  pick  up  crumbs  to  feed  and  nurse  suspicion. 

Jonson.     T'was   so,   and   I  was   asked   to   cease   my 

visits — 

From  that  day  on  I  knew  who  was  "Shake-Speare" 
And  when  the  Tower  held  my  lord  of  Rutland 
I  knew  the  Queen  knew,  he  wrote  Richard  "Two" 
The  play  performed  before  the  Essex  insurrection. 
While  Shaxper  browsed  as  usual  in  the  taverns. 
Why,    Burbage,    Heminge   and    Condell   all   knew   it — 
That  is,  that  Shaxper  played  a  Dummy  part. 

Pembroke.     T'was  I,  remember,  Ben,  who  asked  you 

then. 
To  keep  suspicion  from  contemporaries. 

Jonson.     An  this  I  did  religiously,  my  lord. 
My  talk  with  Drummnod  up  at  Hawthornden,  proves 

this 

I  knew  your  wishes  and  I  held  my  peace — 
Contemporaries  bothered  very  little 
And  no  one  cared  who  Shaxper  was;  or  lived — 

Southampton.     In  thy  "Discoveries",  Ben,  Thou  hast 

an   item 
Which   sparkles   with   thy   ambiguity 

Jonson.      I   wrote  that  thing  to  please  my  lord  of 

Pembroke. 

An  execise  in  ambiguity — 
"Our  Shake-Speare" — Nostra,  underlined 
Was  meant,  for  the  great  author  of  the  plays. 
The  conviviality  and  repartee 
Belonged  to  Shaxper;  but  a  careful  reader 
Will  see  at  once,  that  entry  is  a  farce. 

Pembroke.     So  is  thy  Folio  dedication,  Ben! 


Montgomery.     So  is  thy  Address  to  the  Reader,  Ben! 
Southampton.     So    are     the     lines     to      Draeshout's 

portrait,  Ben ! 
Jonson.    And  so  am  I,  my  lords,  a  very  farce ! 

[Each  of  the  lords  hands  Jonson  a  purse.] 
With  these,  I'll  drink  your  healths,  my  lords, 
Though  I  be  ill  to-morrow ! 

[Exit  Jonson. 
Southampton.     Mongomery,    you    wrote    those    lines 

"I.  M." 

They  are  your  style,  I  recognize  it  plainly — 
Montgomery.    Well,   after    rare    Ben   Jonson's   bold 

confession, 

I  may  as  well  join  him  and  own  up  too — 
In  fact,  I  think  the  lines  are  rather  neat. 
Pembroke.    They  are   for  such  a  poet  as  thou  art 

my  brother! 
Southampton.    Trying  to   rival  " Shake- Speare"   eh? 

ha,  ha ! 

Try  as  you  will,  or  any  man,  you'll  never  equal 
Roger  Manners,  5th  Earl  of  Rutland 
The  only  "Shake-Speare" ' 

CURTAIN. 


184 


ROGER   OF   RUTLAND. 


When  Shaksper  toppled  over  at  the  inn, 

To   end  a  life   of  mystery  and   sin, 

He    never   thought   his   name   would   live   so    long, 

As   honored   author   of   another's   song. 

Lord    Rutland    passed   away    four   years    before, 
When    Shakespeare's   novel    wit   appeared   no   more. 
The   world  at   large   will   soon   discover    why, 
And  be  convinced  that  Willie  lived  a  lie. 

Rutland   had   good  cause  to  shield   his  writing, 
For  he  dreaded  good  Queen  Bess  and  James; 
As  his  tragedies  were  very  biting, 
And  he  feared  the  Tower  on  the  Thames! 

Monarchs  like  not  mimic  insurrections — 
Upon  the  stage — no  more  than  in  their  land; 
And  Lord  Rutland  had  some  predilections 
As  to  Life!  Now  do  you  understand? 

Rutland  knew  what  life  was  in  the  Tower, 
For  he  had  spent  two  years  within  its  walls; 
He  had  cause  to   fear  the  Royal  power — 
Knew  its  weight  when  once  a  courtier  falls! 

That   is,    William,    where   you   came   in   handy— - 
That   is   why    Lord    Roger   bought   your   name; 
At  such  work,  dear  Will,  you  were  a  dandy; 
William   Shaksper  ,  can'st  deny  the  same? 

Ben  Jonson,   who   was   with   Will   when   he   fell, 
As  boon  companion   held   his  friend  full   dear, 
And   that   there   was   a   secret   he   knew   well, 
But  drowned  his  curiousity  in  beer  I 

Know,  William  Shaksper,  what  has  helped  your  cause; 
And  made  the  world  do  reverence  to  your  name, 
For  two  centuries  thou  wert  beneath  a  gauze, 
Until   Malone   and    Steevens   brought   you   fame! 

When  Earl  Francis,  Rutland's  younger  brother, 
Paid   you   monies   for    the   work   you'd   done; 
Was  it  paid  to  you  to   shield  the   other, 
Leaving  you  to  bleach  what  he  had  spun? 


i8s 

VALE,   BACONIANS,  VALEl 


Alas,  ye  poor  misguided  Baconeers 

The  game  is  up — Francisco  is  no  more, 

He  held  out  well  throughout  these  lingering  years 
Decay  presaged  his  end  some  years  before. 

But  now  your  theory  is  down  and  out, 

'Tis  halt  and  ever  fainter  draws  its  breath, 

'Tis  bald  and  blind  and  lame  from  rheum  and  gout, 

'Twas  ye,  that  hurried  the  poor  thing  to  death. 

Go,  hie  ye  up  to  Gorhambury  heights, 

Mourn  for  this  "son  and  heir"  of  good  Queen  Bess, 
Recount  his  deeds,  his  bribe  taking  delights; 

His  Authorships  that  kept  ye  on  the  guess! 

Think!  Bacon,  at  the  age  of  thirty-two, 

Writes  lines  on  amorous  Venus  to  a  youth? 

Imagine  the  First  Folio  come  to  you 

Full  of  such  errors? — that  proclaims  the  truth. 

Don't  Bacon  in  his  Promus  plainly  show 

The  way  he  cribbed  philosophy  and  thought, 

From  Shake-Speare's  writings  from  the  very  go 
The  fox  not  dreaming  that  he  would  be  caught? 

Did  Bacon  ever  mention  Shake-Speare's  works? 

And  Shake-Speare  ever  name  the  trusty  Francis? 
In  these  two  questions  revelation  lurks 

That  killed  the  last  of  Gorhambury's  chances. 

All  the  philosophy  Sir  Francis  wrote 

Is  almost  worthless  to  the  world  to-day, 

While  daily  from  "our  Shake-Sptart"  do  we  quote 
And  shall  continue  doing  so  for  aye. 

Remember  Bacon  was  Lord  Rutland's  "man" 
Engaged  to  delve  in  archives  of  the  Crown, 

For  data  so  important  to  his  plan, 

And  eke  to  hold  suspicion  'gainst  him  down. 

Amongst  the  papers  Bacon  left  behind 

Not  one  of  any  value  hid  from  view, 
The  Baconites  persist  in  being  blind 

Groping  in  Caverns  dark  and  places  new. 


i86 
STRATFORD,  AWAKE! 


Swan   nursing   Stratfordites   take   heed   in   time 
And  bury  your  false  relics  out  of  sight, 

Then  from  the  grave  obliterate  that  rhyme 

For  Truth  emerged  is   spreading  wonderous  light 

Disown  those  legends  told  about  Will's  youth 

And  disavow  his  genealogy, 
For,  if  you  hesitate,   you   may,  forsooth, 

Be  hanged  upon  Will   Shaksper's  family-tree. 

Burn  all  the  mortgages  and  bills  of  sale 
To  which  his  name  appears  to  be  attached, 

For  all  these  evidences  tell  the  tale 
.Of  monstrous  fraud  and  lies  till  now  unmatched. 

Deny  Ann   Hathaway  wed  Richard  James 
As  soon  as  drunken  Will  was  stowed  away; 

And  find  just  one  among  a  hundred  names 
'Mongst  nobelmen  who  recognized  his  lay. 

Will's  soul,  e'en  now  is  snickering  in  his  grave 
(It  had  no  wings  to  make  it  soar  on  high) 

To  see  you  simple  minded  folk  behave 

Like   blind   fanatics — and   not — knowing  why! 

Will's  only  act  deserving  of  some  praise 

Was  getting  drunk  and  short'ning  his  vile  life, 

And  the  chivalrous  compliment  he  pays 

In  his  last  will,  to  charming  Ann,  his  wife. 

We've  found  another  portrait  of  your  master 
The   only  one  extant  that's  true  to  life, 

'Twas  interlined  in  Stratford — had  he  cast  her? 
And  painted  for  poor  Ann,  his  suffering  wife. 

So  he  wrote  Hamlet,  Macbeth,  Shylock,   Lear? 

Ye  Gods,  this  callous  heart  knew  mournful  Jacques? 
For  shame,  ye  silly   Stratfordites,  look  here, 

You  need  some  melted  ice  poured  down  your  backs! 

Give  us  one  link  to  show  your  Swan's  connection 
With  any  one   of  Shake-Speare's  wondrous  plays 

Send  it  to   Sidney  Lee,   for   his  collection, 
'Twill  grow  into  a  chain  in  seven  days. 


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WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
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DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


AIOV    14 


USE 


JAN  19 1959 


. 


JAN  is  \m 


MAY  2 .9  1957 


LIBRARY  USE 


21  1959 


REC'D 


JAN  21  1959 


29 


-  .,    •   ;v 


D£C3j 


LD  21-100m-7,'39(402s) 


11339 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


